Free Form
by Old English D
Summary: It all started with two families: one from Michigan and one from New Jersey, family ties, long-lasting friendships, coincidences, a fateful night on a terrace, miracles, love...and a single scene in a courtroom.  Concluding parts now posted.
1. Chapter 1

_The following is my first collaborative story, written with an author familiar to everyone, Michelle Wiener. We had the time of our lives writing it, but the very best thing about the story is that I now have a friendship I'll treasure forever. I haven't laughed so hard (or stayed up so late!) in a long time, and look forward to__ writing more stories with her as soon as we both take a little time off to recover from creating this impressive tome. Heartfelt thanks to the bestest beta ever Rachel for her quick-as-a-flash, insightful feedback. __ ~ D_

**Part 1.1 – The Trial**

Perry Mason glanced one more time at the neatly typed notes in his hand and slowly got to his feet. He had conducted the first part of his cross-examination of James McKendrick seated and in a modulated tone of voice, the sheaf of notes rolled into a tube. Documents from the envelope handed to him by Paul Drake only moments ago lay on the wooden table before him. Every pair of eyes in the courtroom was riveted on his impressive physique, on the broad expanse of his back as he advanced toward the witness stand, his confident stride signaling a change in his demeanor.

"Isn't it true Mr. McKendrick , that you were in Mr. Dumont's home an hour before my client arrived?"

"No…uh no…where would you get a crazy idea like that?"

"The witness will refrain from such extraneous comments. Simply answer the question put forth by Counsel." Judge Wells chastised the witness.

James McKendrick gulped. "No. I – I told you no."

Perry Mason stood next to the witness stand, his elbow on the rail, the rolled sheaf of notes still in his hand. "I submit you were Mr. McKendrick. I submit you went to see Henry Dumont at eight o'clock, not nine o'clock as you stated earlier. You argued with Mr. Dumont about the property value and the settlement and then, knowing that my client was expected, you left." He raised his foot and placed it on the edge of the witness stand riser. "However, instead of leaving, you went around to the back of the house and waited. You waited until my client came to see Dumont. You saw Judson Pierce threaten Henry Dumont with a gun, saw Henry Dumont laugh at the threat, saw how Mr. Dumont knocked the gun from my client's hand and ordered him to leave. And after he left through the front door, you entered the house from the back, found Henry Dumont in the library, and argued with him again. You picked up the gun and fired. You killed Henry Dumont, Mr. McKendrick. You fired that gun, not Judson Pierce."

"No! No! No! It wasn't like that!"

"Then how was it, Mr. McKendrick? Tell us. Tell us that you didn't wear gloves to your meeting with Henry Dumont so that the only fingerprints on the gun were those of Judson Pierce. Tell us how you didn't make sure to leave exactly how you entered – through the back door so that Mr. Dumont's neighbor Mrs. Cline saw only Judson Pierce leave the house that night. Tell us how you didn't carefully plan it so you would wind up with the money and the property in the event of Henry Dumont's death. Tell us Mr. McKendrick. Tell us how none of those things happened."

The famous attorney's powerful voice reverberated through the courtroom, eliciting more than a few shivers up and down the spines of enthralled spectators. His testimony torn to shreds, James McKendrick broke down on the stand. "It – it was an accident. I didn't mean to kill him. I only meant to scare him. I – I just wanted to scare him, that's all…and the gun went off. It just went off by itself."

Perry Mason let out a deep breath, backed several steps away from the witness stand and looked up at Judge Wells with an unreadable expression on his face. His voice dropped to its normal timbre. "No more questions, Your Honor."

Judge Norman Wells looked at the imposing, impeccably dressed counsel for defense standing before him. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised by the outcome of this trial, but he was. Perry Mason never ceased to amaze him. The man's talent was the stuff legends were made of, and he had done it yet again – cleared a client against whom circumstantial evidence was strong and fingered the real killer in another eleventh hour upset. Just when it looked hopeless for Judson Pierce, that detective Paul Drake had quietly entered the courtroom carrying a manila folder and handed it to Mason. Judge Wells had noticed the confident and victorious look exchanged between the two men, but he had also noticed what no one else had seen. The almost imperceptible smile Perry Mason had given his secretary and the answering glow in her eyes as she realized he was about to pull that proverbial rabbit out of a hat.

The judge turned to the jury, thanked them for their service, gave instructions to the bailiff in regard to James McKendrick, and then turned his attention back to Perry Mason.

"Mr. Mason, your client is free to go. Once again you have seen that justice was properly served to your client. Mr. Burger, as always, you did a fine job representing the People. Thank you, gentlemen. Court is adjourned." He banged his gavel emphatically and stood to make his way through the door leading to his chambers.

The courtroom exploded with a cacophonous din of excitement as reporters ran out into the hall to phone in the story to their editors and James McKendrick was taken away by officers of the court. Judson Pierce was clearly emotional as he realized he was a free man. His family was overjoyed, and after a round of congratulatory handshakes and heartfelt thanks, they left for a private celebration, their effusive invitation for Perry Mason, Paul Drake and Della Street to accompany them having been politely declined by the attorney himself. He had noticed how tired Della appeared, how wearily she had gotten to her feet when the judge dismissed the case, how vividly her dark eyes stood out from her pale face. He also noticed that look – the look that told him she wanted time alone with him, and truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to be alone with her. He continued his sidetracked reverie; visions of Della bathed in the glow of firelight, curls tousled by his own hands framing her beautiful face, lips slightly swollen from his hungry kisses.

"So is that all right, pal?" Paul Drake wore a look of relief as he addressed Perry Mason in his usual affable manner.

For a minute Perry seemed not to have heard him, finally responding when he felt Paul's hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. What did you say, Paul?"

The tall, prematurely grey-haired P.I. laughed as he answered. "Man, Perry, you're a million miles away."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I was lost in thought there for a minute. What do you need?"

"I'm taking off now if that's all right with you. I haven't seen Linda in days and I'd like to spend a relaxing weekend with her not thinking about murder and demanding defense attorneys who make me work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. You should consider a bit of relaxation yourself now that we don't have to work over the weekend to be ready for court Monday morning." He grinned. "By the way, Perry, you were terrific as usual. I'm glad you got Pierce off. But I'm mostly glad that I'll be able to see Linda." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Perry waved him away. "I couldn't have done it without your help, Paul. You were pretty terrific yourself."

Paul slapped Perry on the back and then leaned past him to chuck Della underneath her chin. "Bye Beautiful," he said in a gently teasing tone. "Don't let this guy make you do any work over the weekend. If you're smart, which I know for a fact you are, you'll find a way to make that happen."

Perry smiled broadly. "I've already made plans that I think will meet with Miss Street's approval, Paul. Now go on and get out of here before someone else walks in and wants our services. Enjoy your weekend and say hi to Linda from us." He reached for Della's arm and was taken aback by the little grimace she made. She hadn't said a word since the Judge had banged his gavel and there was an odd glaze over her normally clear, expressive eyes. "Paul," he called after the retreating detective, "would you do one more thing? There has been so much publicity about this case and I'm sure the courthouse is crawling with reporters waiting to ambush me for a statement. I'd like to get out of here without any fanfare."

Della flashed him a wan, grateful smile as she allowed Perry to guide her from behind the defense table.

A silent look of understanding passed between the two men as they noted Della's pallor and uncharacteristic silence. During the noon recess while they were eating Cobb salads and discussing the seemingly airtight testimony of James McKendrick, Della had quietly excused herself to the ladies room. Perry and Paul had watched her walk away then the detective regarded the attorney with concern.

"_Say, what's up with Della?" Paul asked, sliding his eyes back to him._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_She really looks tired. And she's pale. She hardly touched her food and her hands shook a little. How late did you stay at the office last night after I left?"_

"_Actually, we left only about fifteen minutes or so after you." He ran his hands over his jaw. "You're right. I noticed how tired she looks. I asked her this morning if she felt all right and she said she was fine. But you know her. She never complains and always does what I need her to do, and much, much more. This trial seems to have taken its toll on her more so than any others. Sometimes I wish…"_

"_What do you wish, Perry? Something eating you?"_

"_Maybe this trial has taken more out of **me** than I thought," he laughed self-consciously, "it's just that sometimes I wish I had picked a different profession or at least a different kind of law to specialize in. Then I wouldn't have to worry if my secretary is eating properly or getting enough rest."_

_Paul laughed. "Perry, you know you would hate any other kind of law. It wouldn't be exciting or fast-paced enough for you. And let's face it you're not only concerned about Della because she's your secretary. You're concerned because she's much more than your secretary." He pushed away his picked-clean plate and lit a cigarette. "I have a suggestion for you. As soon as this trial is over take her somewhere – you know, someplace where the two of you can be alone without all the prying eyes in the city. Maybe Harrison Gault would let you stay at his ranch…"_

_Paul stopped talking because Della was approaching the table, her pace slow, her head a bit lowered. He nodded in her direction and they resumed their conversation about the trial._

As Perry thought back to that conversation, remembering the exhaustion plainly displayed on her sculpted features, he decided Paul was right. He would plan something nice for Della; something that would take her away from the stress of his practice…Paul's voice interrupted his thoughts once again.

"No problem with the reporters, Perry. I'll take care of them. Take it easy, kids, and stay out of trouble." He winked at Della and walked out of the courtroom.

Perry began gathering papers and notes and stuffed them into his briefcase so that Della wouldn't have to when he felt her soft, slender hand on his. Looking up at him through long lashes, her hazel eyes no longer dull but sparkling with pride, her cheeks flushed a becoming pink, she gave Perry her most spectacular smile.

"You really did yourself up fine, Counselor." Her voice flowed over him like warm brandy. "Once you began questioning McKendrick in earnest he didn't have a chance. I thought he'd have to be carried out of here." Her hand squeezed his. "You are quite something else, Mr. Mason. I am so proud of you I could just burst."

"I was just about to say the same about you." His eyes swept over Della with an intensity that weakened her knees. "What do you say about taking the esteemed Mr. Drake's advice and getting out of here? I have very private and personal plans for our weekend and the sooner we leave, the sooner we can be very private and personal with one another."

There was no verbal reply from Della. She answered him by handing him his briefcase, taking hold of her own and slightly shifting her eyes toward the door leading to the back hallway of the courtroom. It took only minutes for attorney and secretary to walk out of the courtroom and take the elevator down to the parking garage where Perry's car was parked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 1.2 – Too Jazzy**

The apartment had a relaxed, secure atmosphere, lit only by candles and the glowing flames emanating from the fireplace. The mantle clock read seven-thirty and already Della was asleep. She had picked at her dinner fitfully and not finished one small glass of wine so Perry had banished her to the couch while he cleaned he kitchen. When he joined her in the living room, she was fighting sleep, curled beneath the beige throw her aunt had knitted for her.

Perry looked down at the beautiful woman's head of tumbled chestnut curls pillowed in his lap and with one hand began to very lightly stroke those curls, caressing her face. His other hand held hers, small and lovely, strong and capable. Hands that could type with blinding speed, take endless dictation, and effortlessly perform a million other tasks with astounding efficiency. Hands that also touched him with feather-like tenderness and miraculous love that humbled him and confirmed her love for him. With a soft smile and an even softer look in his eyes he watched her sleep, thinking about how much he loved her and how she completed his life.

Every time he looked at her it was like seeing her for the first time. Her animated face, the expressive eyes, forever changing, but remaining the same, grew lovelier with each passing day. Every morning he was struck that his memory of her wasn't quite right. He felt emotions well up, threatening to burst forth like an open dam as she shifted in her sleep and a tiny smile traveled across her lips His purpose in life was to protect her, to nurture her and spoil her, to give her everything she needed. No, that wasn't quite right. He was meant to love her first, then all those other things…and more.

Mere minutes after meeting her, he had known he would never be the same, and when he thought her lost to him was beside himself with regret. Then the phenomenal stroke of fate that brought them together again had righted his world and as their relationship grew and intensified and finally come to fruition, Perry gave something to Della he had never given to any other woman. He gave himself.

Perry closed his eyes momentarily and thought about the day he had met this extraordinary woman, the day he suspected he had fallen in love with her, the day he realized what he had in his life wasn't what he wanted. She had turned his perspective upside down that very first meeting; her eyes, her smile, that throaty laugh, haunted him whether awake or asleep. But he had no idea who it was that haunted him so relentlessly, who he thought of so longingly.

_He didn't notice there was someone else on the terrace until it was too late to back out and excuse himself, and instead squinted into the darkness at the shadowy figure leaning over the railing. A woman with short dark hair._

"_It's all right," came her voice, smooth and low. "I'm harmless."_

"_I didn't know anyone was out here." He chuckled. "You may be harmless, but what if I'm not?"_

_She took a few steps toward him, emerging from the shadows into the dim yellow light thrown by a single bulb hanging above the back door of the club. Her attractive voice did nothing to prepare him for the woman herself. A bit tall, slender but womanly, with wide sparkling eyes beneath perfectly arched brows and a smile that grabbed him by his heart. He sucked in his breath involuntarily, his lungs nearly paralyzed. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and it wasn't poor lighting or a large quantity of alcohol that presented her as such. His heart fluttered and his stomach tightened as she took two more steps toward him._

_She held a cigarette up, wedged between slender fingers with short but perfectly manicured nails painted a soft coral. "Would you happen to have a light? I was so anxious to get out of there I forgot matches."_

_He reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and his lighter and hoped his hand wasn't shaking as he flicked the lighter to life. She leaned toward him to touch the cigarette to the flame, and he was enveloped by her light and slightly spicy perfume. The fluttering in his chest increased tenfold._

_She stepped back and exhaled gratefully while he lit his cigarette and snapped the cover back on the lighter. "Why were you so anxious to get out of there?" He thought his voice sounded normal, hoped it held none of the flutter resident in his chest._

_She leaned her hip against the railing and held the cigarette aloft, smoke from the tip curling around her head as she regarded him with a bit of amusement. "For the same reason you are most likely out here. I generally like jazz, but that stuff they're playing in there is just… **too** **jazzy**."_

_He grinned broadly. "That describes it perfectly. Music shouldn't hurt your ears."_

_She laughed, low and heartily. "Exactly! Only it was so bad my teeth began to hurt as well. I don't think any of the musicians were playing in the same key, let alone the same song."_

_He grinned at her. "They call it 'free form' jazz, which relies on improvisation and deconstruction of established musical patterns that some musicians regard as restrictive. Free form is a way to tap into their inner creativity."_

_She grimaced. "Well, it taps directly into my inner annoyance. What happened to good old big band?"_

"_Oh come now, you're much too young to bemoan the demise of big band."_

"_Good music is good music no matter the era. 'Moonlight Serenade' never made anyone's teeth hurt." She inhaled daintily on her cigarette. "And your flattery did not go unnoticed."_

_He laughed again. What a delightful girl. "That happens to be one of my favorite songs."_

_She lifted her wide eyes to him. In the dim light he couldn't tell their color, but knew they were dark. Green, maybe? "It happens to be my number one favorite song. You seem knowledgeable about music. Are you a musician?"_

"_No, my profession is much less revered than musician. I'm an attorney."_

"_Then how do you know so much about jazz, if I may be so inquisitive?"_

_He suddenly became uncomfortable, not wanting to answer how he knew about free form jazz, not wanting her to know about Laura and her musical tastes, and especially not about his relationship with Laura. "A…friend…is a fan."_

_She nodded her head of dark curls. "The woman with the platinum mink stole and pixie haircut."_

_He frowned with consternation. She had obviously noticed him in the club, and knew who he was with. Had she seen Laura kiss him as they were seating themselves, how she had clung to him with a proprietary smugness, how she had turned stiff and stony when he'd excused himself to come out here? No, she wouldn't have seen that because she was already out here on the terrace. _

"_That's right."_

_She inhaled one more time on the cigarette and stubbed it out on the metal railing of the terrace. Then she did something that surprised him. She drew back her hand and threw the butt as far as she could, her movements sure and athletic. "Did it land across the street?"_

_He peered into the darkness with admiration. "I would say with that wind-up and delivery it landed outside the city limits."_

_She treated him to that heart-tugging smile. "I had brothers," she said by way of beginning an explanation. "When we were teenagers we used to have contests to see who could toss their cigarettes the furthest. The trick is to get as little arc as possible in the toss."_

_He stubbed out his cigarette and repeated her motions, and his toss had only a bit of an arc to it. She applauded. "I think you tossed it much further than I did," he observed with a congratulatory tone._

"_You are very gallant in defeat."_

"_Tell me, do you skip stones?"_

_She laughed. "As a matter of fact, we lived on a small lake, a pond really, so I'm an expert stone skipper. How about you?"_

"_Champion of the world," he declared._

"_Too bad there isn't a lake around here so we could prove or disprove that very bold contention."_

"_All I would need is a large mud puddle," he told her with lofty confidence. _

_She laughed again. "I don't think we'll find one of those either. It will forever remain a mystery whether or not you tell the truth."_

_He reached into his breast pocket and removed the cigarette pack, offering it to her. She shook her head. He lit a second cigarette and leaned his elbows on the railing. She adopted the same stance and they remained silent for several comfortable minutes staring across the street at a vacant lot between two old Spanish style buildings. _

_Their somewhat inane but enjoyable conversation, combined with her low, soothing voice had calmed the fluttering of his heart and loosened the tightness in his stomach. He had been immediately and strongly drawn to this woman as he'd never been drawn before. He stole several sidelong glances at her perfect profile and actually blushed in embarrassment when she turned suddenly and caught one of those glances. Her eyes danced and he could see her struggling not to laugh. He decided to be honest with her._

"_Please don't take this in any other way than it's intended, but I think you are quite beautiful."_

_She turned to face him and raised one eyebrow. He had never seen anyone do that before. His enchantment was complete. "How was it intended?"_

_He wanted to touch her, to simply take her hand and assure her he wasn't a common masher, but feared that if he took her hand, he would not be able to keep himself from pulling her close, and then he really would be just a common masher. "In the most respectful and sincere manner possible."_

_She turned away from him, put her hands on the metal railing and leaned back, elbows locked. She tossed her head of curls in the warm evening air, releasing that intoxicating perfume to titillate his sense of smell. "Even though you may or may not be an inveterate liar, I shall accept it in the manner in which you claim it was intended because despite your occupation, you look honest enough." _

_He threw back his head and laughed. "I don't think I've ever received such a backhanded thank you before, if that's what that actually was."_

"_A girl can't be too careful these days accepting compliments," she told him with eyes a-sparkle. "Especially if she wants to be recognized for her skills and accomplishments and not just for her looks."_

"_I have the distinct impression your skills and accomplishments are on a par with your looks." He could listen to her talk forever, could parry and spar with her quick wit endlessly, could look at her until there were no more tomorrows._

"_You are in a welcome minority," she said very quietly, then jerked her head around to face him. "I'm sorry. I've been out here much too long and I should really get back to my…friend."_

_He nodded. "As should I. It has been a pleasure sharing the terrace with a fellow free form skeptic."_

_She dazzled him with one more smile. "I've graduated from skepticism to outright dislike. My…friend… will pay for this dearly."_

"_As will mine," he promised, making a pact of revenge with her._

_She thrust out her hand. "Good luck surviving the rest of the show. I've heard rumors that the last song is twenty-five minutes long."_

_He tentatively took her hand, her small, warm, soft hand. "There must be an intermission coming up in the performance. Maybe I'll see you out here again?" _

_She snickered. "Don't tempt me. I'm afraid I'll have to remain seated for the rest of the set. This is my second trip out here." She bobbed her head in good-bye and moved gracefully on narrow high heels to the door of the club. She paused with her hand on the metal handle. "Good night." She pushed down on the handle and pulled the door open._

"_Good night." _

_He watched her disappear into the smoky club and felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. After counting to ten, he re-entered the building and made his way to the table where he had left Laura, his eyes shifting furtively around the half-lit room for his recently departed terrace companion, finally spotting her and a handsome blonde man at a table pushed up against the back wall. She lifted her cocktail glass in a silent toast, raised her eyebrows and crossed her eyes. He couldn't stifle his laugh and Laura looked up at him, quizzically perturbed. He wouldn't hear the end of this transgression from her, but it had been worth it for the few moments of utter pleasure talking with the beautiful woman who didn't look at him like he was from another planet because the music was **too** **jazzy**. He settled himself in the uncomfortable wooden chair and winced at the ear-splitting screech of a note the trumpet player achieved. Laura looked at him with a combination of disgust and relief, leaning toward him in a silent command. He dutifully kissed her, too quickly for her, but not quickly enough for him. _

_His eyes wandered to the back of the club several times during the remainder of the performance set, whenever the improvisation became just too much for him to bear and he felt compelled to share his thoughts with a kindred spirit. She would raise those perfect eyebrows or waggle her fingers in agreement. He tried not to notice that the handsome blonde man usually had his arm draped around her shoulders or his face nuzzled against her neck because it strangely bothered him._

_A song had gone on for what seemed like forever without a discernible break, so he figured it must be the final piece she had mentioned, and he chanced another look toward the back of the room._

_The table was empty. She was gone. The torturous song, and he used that word loosely to describe what he was hearing, went on interminably with no one to share his discomfort with._

_He'd taken Laura home and begged off spending the night with excuses about a headache and an early meeting with a new ADA to plead an assault case. She had been angry and suspicious of his faltering excuses, slamming the door in his face after telling him not to bother calling her until he could be more attentive to her needs. _

_Driving home he'd thought of nothing but the woman on the terrace, kicking himself that he hadn't gotten her name or given her his card. He would likely never see her again and it made him monumentally sad. And although he knew it was useless, he began looking for her everywhere, even suggesting to Laura that they go back to the jazz club several times, his obsession with the woman usurping sensibility until he realized it was bordering on unhealthy. There was Laura to consider; their bruised relationship, shared history and tattered affection deserved his attention. So he had put the woman with the sparkling eyes out of his mind and concentrated on Laura for almost a year – at which time she announced her intention to move to Denver and his secretary announced she was getting married._

Perry gazed down at Della flushed in deep sleep, her chest rising and falling in a comfortingly familiar rhythm. His love for her was so deep, so encompassing, that sometimes the mere thought of her would paralyze his lungs the exact same way as the first time he'd laid eyes on her under that dirty, dim bulb on the terrace of that dingy jazz club. He sometimes felt actual pain when thinking about Della, but it was the most excruciatingly wonderful pain he'd ever experienced, so he thought about her almost constantly.

Della shivered and he tucked the soft beige throw around her more snugly. He hoped she wasn't having a bad dream. Sometimes her dreams made her shiver or cry out and no matter how lovingly he held her and soothed her, she couldn't tell him what exactly the dreams were about. He sensed she remembered, that the dreams had a recurring theme, but she stubbornly refused to admit it. She shivered again, a bit more violently, and her eyes flew open.

"Well, hi there sleepy girl," he said gently, rubbing her hands with his. "Did you have one of those dreams?"

Della looked vaguely bewildered for a moment, and then shook her head. "No. I'm cold."

He moved one hand up her arm, rubbing it just vigorously enough to generate a bit of warming friction. "I'll put another log on the fire."

She cleared her throat. "Actually, I'd rather take a bath. I'm shivering from the inside out."

He smiled at that description despite a prick of worry. "Do you feel okay, darling?"

"I'm just tired, Perry. My joints are stiff and I'm so cold. A bath will take care of everything."

Perry helped her to a sitting position and curled his arms around her. She snuggled her head against his chest, pulled the throw about her shoulders, and sighed. "I don't like to see you like this, Della. It's okay for me to take chances on cases and stay up for days at a time, but you shouldn't –"

"Perry, don't even suggest that I stay behind at the office, or heaven forbid my apartment, while you have all the fun," she interrupted and cleared her throat again. "There's nothing wrong with me that a bath and a good night's sleep curled up next to you won't cure."

He grinned with boyish pleasure. "Then I'm staying?"

She tilted her head up to look at him. "Of course you are." She kissed his jaw and pushed herself into a sitting position again. "I thought you had a plan for the weekend. You looked like you were deep in thought when I woke up."

He rubbed her back through the soft yarn of the throw. "I do. I was. As a matter of fact, I need to make a couple of phone calls to finalize everything. I'll do that while you take a bath. Then I'll warm up the bed for you and we'll get a well-deserved full night of sleep."

"Sounds wonderful." She yawned. "What were you thinking about so deeply?"

"Oh, I was remembering a certain night when the most beautiful woman I had ever seen described free form jazz as _**too jazzy**_ and tossed a cigarette butt into the next county."

Although she was almost beyond tired, Della managed the same spectacular smile that had grabbed his heart that night. "I remember that night too, Perry. I didn't know it at the time but that night changed my whole life."

Perry nestled her chin in his hand gently. His voice was soft. "It changed mine too, baby, only it took a whole year before you came back into my life."

Her hand circled his wrist and she locked eyes with him. "If I had known how wonderful everything was going to turn out, Mr. Mason, I would have done something to make the time between our two meetings much, much shorter."

"Everything has indeed turned out perfectly, no matter the length of time. Come on, let's get you into the tub. Then I'll make a couple of calls and maybe I'll even bring you a cup of that raspberry tea you like so much".

"Mmmmm…sounds wonderful. You do take such good care of me, Perry. You're my hero."

"And you, darling, are my cold, sleepy girl." Perry stood, pulling Della to her feet gently. She swayed slightly against him and he wrapped his arms around her securely as they made their way slowly to the small but adequate bathroom she had decorated in shades of green and cream. He helped her undress, wrapped her in a large fluffy towel, and sat her down on the edge of the tub as he ran the water and added her favorite bath salts. Then he removed the towel, swung her legs into the steaming water and held her steady as she lowered herself into the tub. Kissing her on the forehead, he smiled and turned to leave when he felt a slight tug on his arm. He turned and looked down at Della.

"What it is, baby?"

"May I make one request about the weekend, Perry?"

"Of course, sweetheart, you can ask for anything, you know that"

"Can…can it just be us? You know, someplace where we really can be alone….away from everything and everyone?" She yawned.

The lawyer brushed the back of his hand against Della's cheek tenderly. For a moment, he paused, wondering if the warmth of her cheek was from just having woken up combined with the steam rising from the bath water or if he should be worried. Then she smiled at him and he put the nagging thought out of his mind, replacing it with another. _'She'll be fine as soon as I get her away. The further we get from Los Angeles tomorrow the perkier she'll get.' _

"You know Miss Street, great minds think alike. I had that very same thought. Take your bath like a good girl and I'll be back in a few minutes with your tea." She yawned again and shivered slightly as she sank gratefully into the fragrant water. _'Maybe I'll call Gertie and Paul and let them know we'll be out of town until the end of the week,' he mused. 'This Pierce case seems to have made her more tired than usual.' _

Della let out a sigh of contentment and leaned back against the towel Perry had rolled up to support her neck. Closing her eyes, she smiled to herself at the thought of the cup of tea he was making her, about the just-concluded case, about sleeping cuddled next to him in her comfy bed, and mostly about being alone with her handsome attorney away from the pressures of Los Angeles...and about when her life had truly begun.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 1.3 – For Argument's Sake**

_She'd insisted upon leaving the jazz club before the last strident piece was concluded, and then begged off going to another club for a snack. Brent escorted her to her door but she didn't allow him into her apartment, much to his disappointment. His roaming hands and wayward lips no longer held any excitement for her – not after her encounter with the big man on the terrace._

_She changed into pajamas, a chenille robe, and soft slippers, made a cup of tea, and carried it into the small but cozy living room. Curling up on her brand-new sage green couch, she couldn't help but smile. A year of steady assignments out of the steno pool had landed her a full-time secretarial position, and she had finally saved enough to buy the couch and return borrowed furniture to friends. It was the first new item she purchased, followed quickly by a coffee table and two end tables found on sale. She was proud of herself because buying her very own couch was tangible proof for her family that moving to California had been the right thing to do. It had been difficult to convince them, but they had come around grudgingly when she called them all excited about her big purchase. She would need more furniture – not too much, maybe a couple of chairs and small table for the entry way – to make the little apartment a home. Her Aunt Mae had presented her with a more-than-generous housewarming gift of a beautiful mahogany dining room set and she had taken her color palette for the entire apartment from the chairs, which were covered in a soft corduroy striped butterscotch, sage, and cream._

_She sipped her tea and thought about Brent. A friend of her Aunt Mae had set them up and they had been dating steadily for several weeks. Tall, blonde and good-looking, he was pleasant and attentive, and she enjoyed their time together. Until tonight that is. Tonight she realized that while she liked him well enough, there was something missing for her. Brent was ready and willing to take their dates into a serious relationship, but she knew that wasn't going to happen now. Not when all she could see when she closed her eyes was a tall man with broad shoulders, dark hair curling endearingly over his forehead, and an irresistibly dimpled grin. And those eyes! Those eyes had mesmerized her. Even in the dim, faltering light of the yellow bulb above his head she could see they were incredibly blue, a piercing blue that stole her breath for several moments until she was able to speak those silly words: "I'm harmless." Harmless! If he had known what she was really thinking…_

_Frowning into her cup, she once again kicked herself for not getting the handsome man's name or boldly offering her own name to him. The physical attraction had been instantaneous, and when he'd spoken in that rich, full voice she'd nearly slithered to the ground. With a voice and manner like his she imagined he must use it to ply his trade, an actor or singer maybe, taking into consideration his powerful good looks. The more she thought about it, the more the profession of attorney suited her initial impression of him. Attorneys should be commanding and authoritative, and the smooth baritone timbre of his voice surely was both. She immediately trusted him, had known he was more harmless than she claimed herself to be, and had believed his compliment about her skills and accomplishments being on par with her looks. It was refreshing to hear a man place a woman's capabilities on the same playing field as her looks. And he hadn't followed the compliment with a pass at her, which was doubly refreshing. _

_So why hadn't she formally introduced herself to this handsome, honest man and remained on the terrace the rest of the evening talking about skipping stones in mud puddles and deconstructing musical patterns? Her frown deepened. Because she had been there with a date…a friend…and she couldn't abandon Brent completely. Besides, the man had been there with a date…a friend…as well, and something told her he would not abandon her either. That's why she had abruptly bid him goodnight, why she hadn't offered her name, why she was sitting on the couch frowning into an empty tea cup._

_She stood and walked into the little kitchen to place the cup and saucer in the sink to deal with in the morning, then returned to the living room and turned out the lights before heading to the bathroom. She scrubbed her face until the smattering of freckles across her nose were uncovered and brushed her teeth a bit too vigorously, still perturbed at herself for wasting time on a man she had spoken to for only a few minutes, a man she hadn't even seen clearly in the darkness._

_She kicked off her slippers, laid her robe at the end of the bed, and slipped between the cool sheets, settling on her left side with a sigh. The last thoughts she had before sleep claimed her were of the tall, dark, and oh so handsome man on the terrace._

_She went out on a few more dates with Brent – twice back to that awful jazz club in a desperate, duplicitous hope **he **might be there, but no such luck. Brent sensed her withdrawal from him, and she had to tell him she didn't see a future for them. He had been upset but respectful of her decision not to date him anymore, and they parted with no hard feelings._

_For months in her dreams she saw the man's dimpled grin, felt his piercing gaze travel over her and heard his wonderful, deep voice tell her over and over she was 'quite beautiful'. The dreams were pleasant and a welcome respite from other dreams, the dreams from which she awoke crying and shaken, confused and sad._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Della heard the knob turn and opened her eyes. Perry stood in the doorway dressed in just a pair of silk pajama bottoms and a tender smile. "Time to get out, my beauty, before you turn into a prune. Your tea is waiting for you in the bedroom. And, I have a surprise for you."

Della folded her arms on the side of the tub, pillowed her head on them and looked up at Perry with a similarly loving smile. Knowing full well the answer, she asked the question anyway. "I don't suppose you'll tell me now?"

Perry shook his head. "Nothing doing. I want you all comfy and snuggly when I tell you."

She laughed. "What would people think if they heard the great Perry Mason use words like 'comfy' and 'snuggly' in the same sentence?"

He grinned. "I suspect they would think he was goofy in love"

Della held out her arms and in one deft motion Perry lifted her from the tub and swung her to the bathmat. He grabbed the previously discarded fluffy towel, dried her thoroughly, and helped her into a night gown of soft lightweight blue flowered flannel. After indulging in a lazy kiss, he slid his arm behind her legs and effortlessly carried her into the bedroom where he'd already turned down the bed. After settling Della comfortably against several plump pillows, he moved to the other side of the bed and slid in next to her. She carefully snuggled against him with her cup of tea, and as she sipped, Perry stroked one hand up and down her side and told her his surprise in a low, soothing tone. They were leaving for Carmel in the morning.

"You can pack in the morning, and we'll drive to my place so I can throw some things together. We'll stop at Ray's for lunch and at Wagman's for supplies and arrive in Carmel by three." She started to say something, but he interrupted her. "I've called Gertie and Paul and told them not to expect either of us back until _**next**_ Monday, not this coming Monday. So, my dear, does the surprise meet with your approval?"

Della gave a contented sigh. "What do you think, Counselor? But a whole week away? There's so much that has to be done after the conclusion of a trial. I don't feel right leaving all that work to Gert…"

Perry rolled his eyes and silenced her with a soft kiss. "Miss Street, am I or am I not the boss?"

She grinned cheekily. "I let you think you are."

He opened his mouth, shut it, and looked at her with amused chagrin. "For argument's sake, I'm the boss, okay?"

"Purely for argument's sake, all right, you're the boss."

"As your boss I am ordering a week of rest and relaxation because as also the man who is in love with you, I don't like to see you tired or unhappy or sick, and I can tell this latest trial was particularly stressful on you. Did you not, less than an hour ago, tell me that you wanted to go somewhere where it's just us? I know it's not summer and it will be a bit chilly in Carmel, but I've made sure there is heat and a fireplace where we'll be staying. We'll hunker down and cook all our meals by ourselves. I don't want to see another human being as long as we're there. And as for taking an entire week, I think that's what you need. Just one day less than that will simply not do."

Della tilted her head and looked up the man who held her, the man she loved with her entire being, the man who took care of her, spoiled her, and loved her fiercely. She trusted him completely and knew he would never let any harm come to her. "I feel better already."

"I'm glad, honey. You look better, too. Your coloring is more natural. Finished with your tea?" He took the cup from her and placed it on the bedside table, then pulled her closer as he scooted them down further into the pile of pillows. "Come here, baby. Close your eyes and go to sleep. We have a lot of packing to do tomorrow." He left sweet kisses on her forehead and eyelids, and finally the delectable, full lips she raised.

Della snuggled against his broad chest, her arms drawn up beneath her chin. Her breathing almost immediately slowed, becoming even as she relaxed in the security of Perry's arms. "Perry," she said with a yawn. "I'm pretty goofy in love, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 1.4 – Soul of Discretion**

By nine the next morning Perry Mason was behind the wheel of his big Cadillac, heading north to Carmel, Della snuggled up under his arm, her head on his shoulder. Traffic was light this sunny Saturday morning, which bode well for an uneventful trip. It was approximately a four hour drive from Los Angeles to Carmel and Perry estimated that even with three planned stops they should arrive at their destination between two and three in the afternoon. He looked down at Della, contentedly sitting beside him, softly humming along with the radio.

She had fallen asleep in his arms and slept peacefully through the night, but had awakened early that morning and snuck out of bed without disturbing his own much needed slumber. Eventually he had become aware of his empty arms and opened his eyes. He pulled on the top that matched his pajama bottoms and went in search of her, slightly concerned that she was up before six o'clock. He found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching the coffee pot on the stove with dreamy look in her eyes. She gave him a sleepy smile as he leaned in for a soft kiss.

"Good morning, Sunshine. How's my girl?"

"I can't remember the last time I slept that well, sweetheart. I'm fine. I feel so much better." Her voice was quite low and a bit raspy to Perry's ears.

"If the way you look right now is any indication of how you feel, then I would definitely agree with you. You look absolutely beautiful."

"If I do, it's because of the extra special care I got last night from a very handsome man."

"It was my pleasure, darling. I must admit I was looking forward to a proper thank you this morning but when I woke up, my arms were disappointingly empty. Why did you sneak out of bed so early?"

She took one step toward him and laid her head on his chest. "This is the time I usually get up. Besides, I have a lot to do before we leave. I have to do a quick load of laundry, I have to clean a little, I have to pack, I have to let Frank know I'll be away, I have to tell the paper boy not to leave the paper and…" Della paused to take a small breath. "Oh, and there's the mail…and I should call Aunt Mae…"

"Whoa, hold on there, speedy," he interrupted. "Slow down. Do you remember the main reason we're going out of town?"

She gave the question several seconds of amused thought. "I believe it's because you think the Pierce case was a bit too stressful on me."

"That's right. You shouldn't be stressed about leaving on a trip intended to cure your stress."

"But –"

"No buts, Della. The only thing you have to do is pack. The apartment looks fine, but knowing you as I do, I took the liberty of scheduling Martha to drop by Thursday morning before she heads over to my place. On our way out we'll tell Frank that you'll be out of town for a week and to please hold your mail. He can also tell the paperboy not to deliver your paper. And you can call Mae from my place while I pack. Does that take care of everything on your list?"

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "It takes care of everything but the fact that I don't have any clean underwear."

Perry grinned hugely. "Then we'll just have to stop and buy some on the way. I think I might actually enjoy a shopping trip like that." He hugged her close. "Now that your chore list has been tossed out, what say we go back to bed for a while longer?"

She indicated the coffee pot on the stove. "The coffee is almost ready to perk." She cleared her throat when her voice cracked a bit on the word 'perk'.

He reached behind her and turned off the gas. "Not anymore," he almost growled and lowered his lips to hers.

She let his tongue tease her lips with gentle flicking caresses, frustrating his desire to explore her mouth until he growled again. With a tiny laugh, she parted already kiss-swollen lips and accepted his advances, pressing herself as close as possible to his strong, hard body.

He suddenly broke away from her, reached down and pulled the flannel nightie up and over her head. Tossing it to the floor, he pulled her against him and captured her mouth once again with insistent lips. While his hands roamed over her bare backside she deftly undid the string on his pajama bottoms and gave a satisfied moan when they dropped to the floor at his feet. Her hands landed on his bare backside and Perry snickered as he stepped out of the pajamas and kicked them aside over toward her discarded nightie. They stood in the middle of the little kitchen, hands splayed on each other's naked behinds, smiling broadly at each other.

"Now what, Miss Street?" he asked in a strangled voice.

She stood on tip toes and he gasped at the movement as she whispered in his ear. Without another sound, the big man picked her up, placed her over his shoulder, and almost ran to the bedroom as she laughed with wicked delight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Della played with the car radio dial, her hand on Perry's thigh to support herself as she sought a station with better reception. He could barely breathe for her closeness, the vision of her beneath him only three hours ago – eyes gleaming with desire as he loved her gently, passionately, thoroughly – replacing the view of the road through the windshield.

He loved to love her. There was no other way to put it. Making love to her, taking care of her, worrying about her, talking with her, sleeping with her, laughing with her. He couldn't get enough of any of it, and knew he never would. Her happiness was his happiness, her pleasure his pleasure. She asked for very little and gave so much. When she did ask for something, he would move heaven and earth to do whatever or get whatever it was she wanted. Sometimes she didn't even know she had asked for something and the look in her eyes when he surprised her made him happier than he had a right to be.

_It was January, six months after admitting the depth of their feelings for one another, and they had just finished an early dinner at Donovan's. The night was brilliant and cold and he let the car idle to warm it up. Pulling Della close, he began a serious exploration of her long slender neck. _

"_Where to now, my love? Would you like to go to a movie? How about a show? Or maybe to the club for after dinner drinks and dancing? I think our favorite band is playing tonight. We'll have a drink or two, I'll hold you close in my arms while we dance…I'll even request 'Moonlight Serenade'. How does that sound?"_

"_It sounds wonderful, Perry, really wonderful."_

_There was a slight lack of enthusiasm in her voice that made him pull back to look into her eyes. "I hear a 'but' in that response."_

_She smiled briefly. "It really does sound wonderful, darling, buuuut…would you mind terribly if we go somewhere else?"_

"_Of course not, baby. Where do you want to go?"_

_She hesitated, shifted her eyes away from him. "To the beach."_

"_Della, it's January, it's almost eight o'clock, it's forty-two degrees, and you want to go to the beach?"_

_She nodded, still avoiding his eyes. _

"_All right, the beach it is then. Whatever Milady wishes. But not until you tell me why you want to go now, and why you won't look at me."_

_Della spoke so softly he had to lean down to hear her. "I'm homesick."_

_He was flabbergasted. In all the months he had known her never once had she ever alluded to being homesick. There had to be a deeper reason than homesickness to make her want to go to the beach in forty-two degree weather. He held her closer, letting her burrow into the warmth of his wool top coat._

"_What's the matter, baby?"_

_She shrugged and let out a little sigh. "I just sometimes get homesick. I miss my mother and my silly brothers and my nieces, and the Jersey shore where we used to spend our summers. The beach holds a lot of wonderful memories for me. Every summer up until my senior year in high school my family spent a month with friends in a suburb outside Atlantic City. They had a big, beautiful house almost right on the beach, and even though we lived on a little lake, it was the ocean I loved the most, and visiting that house. It was such a wonderful place, with a wraparound porch and big, airy rooms. But it was a terrace on the second level that I loved the most." Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Our friends, the Martins, had three children, two boys and a girl, just like my family, and we were all similar in age. Kathy and I felt a little outnumbered, but for the most part we got along very well. All of us kids spent a lot of time on that terrace, and some of the most important conversations of my childhood took place on it."_

_Della paused and he thought he heard her sniffle. She took a deep breath. "We went there every summer until Dad…until my father got sick and the doctor said it would be too much for him to make the trip. I absolutely loved visiting there, and was devastated when we couldn't go, but Dad was so sick…" her voice caught in her throat. "There were amusement piers that extended so far out into the ocean you felt as though you were lost at sea. There were beautiful grand hotels, and of course, the beach. The boardwalk was actually made of **wood**, not like the cement ones we have in California. And there were these chairs – they're called rolling chairs – that you sat in and a man pushed you up and down the boardwalk. The stores opened right onto the boardwalk and Kathy and I spent hours window shopping between rides in the rolling chairs. We ate food from every single vendor – soft pretzels, caramel corn, soft ice cream, fudge, salt water taffy…it was heaven on earth."_

_He rubbed his hands up and down her back gently, ecstatic at the glimpse she was giving him of her idyllic childhood. He didn't know what had brought on the feeling of homesickness, but he had it in his power to make her feel better, and that was exactly what he was going to do, forty-two degrees or twenty-two degrees, he was taking her to the beach. _

His reminiscing was interrupted when Della coughed a dry little cough and sneezed. Then she sneezed again.

"Bless you, darling," Perry exclaimed. "Where did that come from?"

Della reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue, which she used to wipe her nose. "I think I got too close to the heater vent while I was fiddling with the car radio." She blew her nose and coughed again. "Something tickled my nose."

"I'll turn off the heater for a while. Come back here and I'll keep you warm." He reached around her shoulders, drew her close again and smiled to himself. The treasured memory of the night they nearly froze to death standing on the beach at Malibu had planted the seed to what he hoped would be a very pleasant surprise for his lovely lady. He was almost fidgety with anticipation.

Della sighed. "It's not even ten o'clock in the morning and already this is just about the most perfect day I've ever had."

"It did start out rather nicely," he agreed with a sly smile.

Suddenly Della sat bolt upright and looked at him with enormous, horrified eyes. "Perry! My nightie and your pajama bottoms are still lying on the kitchen floor!"

Perry laughed and tugged her back into his side. "Honey, it's not as if Martha has never found some feminine doo-dad of yours in my apartment."

Della's face showed utter dismay. "But she's never found pajamas on the floor of your kitchen." She groaned. "How can I ever face her again?"

Perry couldn't stop laughing.

"How can you laugh about this?" she demanded crossly.

"Because it's funny, Della. Relax, darling. Martha is the soul of discretion."

"This is so embarrassing."

"I think Martha will be tickled more than shocked. She likes you. She told me…never mind." He'd almost committed an unforgivable faux pas. Martha had taken care of his apartment for several years. She was acquainted with several women he had dated, including Laura, but Della was her favorite. She had on several occasions mentioned how highly she thought of Della, hinting that she thought they should get married. From her lips to Della's ears…

Thankfully, Della didn't pick up on his slip. "Maybe you could call her later today and tell her not to bother with my apartment."

"Della, really darling, Martha will be all right with finding pajamas in the kitchen. " He broke into fresh chuckles. "I can't believe we forgot about them."

"Well, somebody distracted me," she grumbled, but a smile trembled on her lips.

"And I intend to continue distracting you," he promised.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 2.1 – The House**

_The expansive beach house in Carmel was located at the far southeast corner of Santa Fe Road and East Carmelo Avenue. It sat back about a hundred feet behind a white stone sea wall and was surrounded by lush flowering bushes native to California, thus ensuring not only protection from the sometimes stormy winter weather, but privacy as well. To get to the house one had to turn onto East Carmelo Avenue and drive down the narrow, winding asphalt road, which is what Perry Mason had done approximately seven months prior after having made a wrong turn on the way to a deposition at the summer home of an incapacitated witness in a case, and suddenly there it was. A house he had never seen before, yet strikingly familiar._

_The style was definitely seashore, too large to be called a cottage yet far too small to qualify for mansion status, roomy enough for a family but not too large for a couple. The foundation was brick painted white, unusual for a beach home and different from the redbrick__of the Jersey shore home described by Della, but everything else appeared to be identical. Weathered blue New England clapboard siding, a stunning wraparound porch with a grand wooden staircase, and a sun room jutting out from one side, but it was the second-story covered terrace that caused Perry to slam on his brakes and back the car up to take another look. And then he noticed the for sale sign._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They made three stops after leaving Perry's apartment. One at a department store to pick up a supply of lingerie for Della (along with a couple of items purchased by special request for Perry's enjoyment), the second for a lunch of hamburger sandwiches at Ray's, and a third at Wagman's for enough supplies to last them what seemed like a month. Della was at Perry's heels with constant questions about where they were headed, to which he responded with an infuriatingly smirky smile. She tried poutiness, coquettishness, and even a bit of bold seduction, but he refused to give her any information whatsoever aside from wherever it was exactly, it was in Carmel.

At two twenty-seven, Perry turned the Cadillac onto East Carmelo drive and nudged his elbow into Della's side. "Look at all these beautiful houses, Della. I think this is the nicest part of Carmel, don't you?"

Still a bit pouty from being kept in the dark about their destination, Della crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her lower lip slightly. "I wouldn't know. I've never been to Carmel before."

He could barely contain himself as the road wound along the shoreline, bringing them closer and closer to his surprise. At the very spot he had first noticed the house seven months before, she reached out and grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. "Perry!" she cried. "Look at that house!"

"What house?" It took every bit of his energy not to grin with happiness.

"_**That**_ house!" She pointed through the windshield at the faded blue house coming up at the next winding turn. "It looks just like the Martin's house at the shore in Jersey. Slow down, honey, I want to see it."

Perry slowed the car to a halt in front of the house and Della slid across the seat toward the passenger door. "Oh, the wall blocks it. I can't see it very well." She sounded so dejected Perry almost broke down and confessed.

He put the car back in gear and let it creep forward. At the gated driveway, he spun the wheel and piloted the Cadillac through the gap in the wall. He grinned at her. "Let's just take a peek, shall we?"

"Honey, we can't drive onto someone's private property! This is trespassing."

"I think if we explain to the owners how their house reminds you of a favorite childhood memory, they'll understand."

"Ohhhh, Perry, it's beautiful. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was the Martin's house in New Jersey." She sat forward on the seat, staring with awe at the house as they slowly approached it. "Look!" she exclaimed excitedly, "they have the same kind of furniture the Martin's had on the porch – even the same color cushions!"

On the porch two large white wicker fan chairs with matching hassocks, a love seat, and an oblong glass cocktail table had been arranged. The chair cushions were a light blue and yellow floral pattern while the love seat cushions were striped and slightly brighter in color than the chair cushions.

Perry brought the car to a stop in front of the grand stairway leading to the porch and turned to Della. "I haven't seen you this excited in a long time," he said quietly, almost afraid to think about her reaction when she learned the truth. "Let's knock on the door and see if anyone's home. Maybe the owners are sentimental and will let us inside."

"Have you lost your mind? We can't just walk up to a stranger's house and ask for a tour." But deep down, she wanted to so badly. It was uncanny how much the house resembled the Martin's house. The sun porch, the bay window, the sun bleached siding, the white wicker furniture. And the upper terrace! It was there. Everything she remembered about the Martin house was right in front of her.

Perry pulled her across the seat and opened the driver's door. Holding her hand tightly in his, he walked them up the stairs and pressed the doorbell button. Della heard it echo inside the house as she nervously shifted her eyes around the porch, looking for any signs of life. Perry pushed the button one more time, and after a few seconds reached for the knob and twisted. The door was unlocked. Della placed her hand over his.

"What are you doing?" she hissed urgently. "This is someone's home. You can't just walk in." She was perplexed by his behavior. He knew better than to open the door of a private residence, no matter how excited she was to see it.

"We can be in and out in a few minutes and no one will be the wiser," he whispered back, not trusting his full voice. His stomach was tied in knots, and he hoped his palm wasn't sweating in hers. He pushed the door open and took two steps across the threshold.

Della tugged at his arm in protest. "Perry!"

The look he gave her was strangely pleading and tender. "Come on, baby. You have to see this."

She continued to tug at his arm, trying to get him back out onto the porch, but he refused to budge. "I'm not going in there. It's against the law, you know that!"

"It may very well be, but you have to see this. Trust me, Della. You have to come in."

There was something about his voice that made her set aside trepidation and she allowed him to lead her into the house. He closed the door behind her and she stood in the entryway, unable to breathe. She let go of his hand and advanced several paces into the house, her eyes huge and disbelieving. He remained standing by the door, looking after her with an expression of pure joy on his face.

Della was at the far wall now, in front of the white brick fireplace with its glossy white wood mantle. She knelt and ran her hand over one of a pair of brass andirons placed on either side of the hearth. Suddenly she stood, flew across the space between them and flung herself into his arms. "You wonderful, wonderful man," she whispered fiercely, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 2.2 – Thank You**

Perry could do nothing but laugh with delight as Della ran excitedly from room to room, her exclamations increasingly rapturous, her excited chatter filling the empty house with welcome sound. Every so often she would throw herself at him for a ferocious hug, and then dance away quickly as treasured memories from the Jersey shore were transplanted to this house in California.

In addition to the front room, the lower level of the house consisted of an enclosed sun porch, a dining room, a small den beyond the dining room, and a large open country kitchen accessible from both rooms. Della pulled him through the house, the layout familiar to her, yet surprised at each turn that what she expected to see was actually there. Her giddiest reaction was at the revelation of both a hall closet and a small bathroom hidden behind thick oak doors in the wide hallway that split the house.

Perry loved seeing her like this, what she must have been like as a child, her adult elegance and grace taken over by a bouncy exuberance never before glimpsed. She was usually more reserved in her joy, something he had always chalked up to the geographical sensibility of her upbringing, the calm practicality he admired so much in her. This Della, this giggly, irrepressible youngster before him was irresistible. Just watching her reaction as each detail of the house was revealed to her filled him with so much love and happiness he couldn't stop grinning.

The lower floor thoroughly explored, she took his hand and ran up the stairs. Really and truly ran, taking the stairs two at a time as she must have done all those years ago in another house on the opposite side of the country on the shores of a different ocean. At the top of the stairs she halted in awe as yet another memory surfaced. A large square hallway divided two front bedrooms and a bathroom, as well and two rear bedrooms and another bathroom, exactly like the Martin house. She turned to him and he saw happy tears pooling in the beautiful eyes he adored.

"It's exactly the same," she whispered. She shook her head as if to clear a fog, but when she again took in the sight before her it remained the same.

He kissed her hand. "You gave a very vivid recounting of the house. When I saw how much the exterior resembled your description, I was hopeful the interior would be as similar."

"Similar? Darling, it's the _**same.**_ It's as if someone picked up the Martin's house and moved it to California. Even the color of the walls is the same. I can't believe you found such a place to rent."

He nodded toward the bedroom to the right, suppressing the grin that once again threatened to expose the rest of the surprise. "Let's go explore your favorite porch."

She moved toward the large bedroom that in the Martin house had been considered the 'master', her step light and happy. But at the doorway she abruptly halted, mouth agape. The room was large, the walls covered with pale green grass cloth wallpaper, the gleaming hardwood floor covered by a large rag rug in vibrant shades of green and peach. There was only one piece of furniture in the room: a no-nonsense cherry four poster bed with a tester canopy of cream-colored fabric gathered in a sunburst effect. Della felt Perry's hands at her waist, his breath warm on her neck as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Do you like the bed? I know it's not exactly like the canopy bed you had as a little girl, but I thought this one suited my size and your decorating taste better. We can scour the local shops for tables and dressers…" his words were cut off as her knees suddenly buckled and he had to quickly catch her before she collapsed on the floor. He lifted her easily in his arms and placed her on the bed, his arms steadying her, holding her trembling body upright. The bed was high off the ground and her feet dangled several inches from the floor as her astounded eyes scanned the room.

"You…you didn't rent this house," she finally said, her tone almost accusatory. "You bought this house."

He cupped her cheek with a gentleness reserved only for her. "I bought this house," he admitted quietly. "It's yours, my beautiful girl. I saw it and knew I had to buy it for you – for us. You make me happy every second of my life and I want you to be happy. I love you, Della."

Her face was flushed, her eyes brilliant as she captured his hand and held it against her heart. He felt her struggle to breathe as she processed what he'd said. Her head dropped to his chest. "I love you, Perry. I can't find words to tell you how much I love you. You didn't have to buy a house to make me happy. I can't believe you did this for me." She laughed because she didn't know what else to do.

He smiled into her hair. "I did this for us, darling. Making you happy makes me happy. I don't ever want you to be homesick again." He kissed the curls at her forehead. "A simple 'I love you' tells me everything I need to know, Della. It always has and always will."

All he had ever needed to do was look at her and she was his forever, and being held in his arms made her feel safe and loved and…treasured. That was a good word. "I treasure you, Mr. Mason. And I treasure every moment we're able to spend together."

It was his turn to be without words. He hugged her tighter.

"It's warm in here," she declared.

He nodded. "I had the decorator I've been working with turn on the furnace yesterday. Wait until you meet him, sweetheart. He's something else. And guess what? He's originally from New Jersey!"

Her hands had found their way beneath his sweater and were currently making lazy circles on his back. "Maybe we can have him over for dinner one night," she said casually.

"Nothing doing, baby. You are seeing no one but me for an entire week. We'll have him over some other weekend. And get this – his name is Martin. It's his first name, but the coincidences just keep – "

She kissed him. "You talk too much sometimes, darling. And you are definitely wearing too many clothes for how warm it is in here."

His smile was indulgently amused. The ecstatic girlishness was gone, replaced by the quietly assured womanliness he loved with all that he was. He returned her kiss, gently but firmly. "I have an idea it's going to get a lot warmer very quickly."

Della unbuttoned his cashmere cardigan with desire-shaken fingers while Perry continued the firm pressure on her mouth. Never breaking contact, he tangled his arms with hers and unbuttoned her blouse. He laughed softly as she became frustrated when presented with even more buttons on his shirt beneath the sweater and took over the chore of unbuttoning while she reached for his belt buckle.

And then they were lying atop the green and cream patchwork quilt, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, whispering in a language only they shared. He knew exactly where to touch her, where she was the most vulnerable to his kisses, and slowly, so slowly, he moved his mouth over her already heated body, feeling her begin to tremble beneath him. The whispers became gasps and moans, incoherent sounds but completely understood. The kisses that had begun so sweetly, so slowly, now became harder and hungrier. Everything around them was spinning, their desire pulsing toward the ultimate crescendo of need and desire and pleasure until they collapsed together, sated and spent, holding one another close, each tasting the salt of tears on the other's cheeks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was almost an hour before they ventured out onto the upper porch off the master bedroom, and Della's youthful exuberance returned to delight him once more. He would never forget this day, and would carry her thrilled reaction to the house with him as long as he lived. Nothing in the world compared to the feeling he got from seeing her truly happy.

Della leaned back against Perry as they stood at the porch railing, his long arms holding her securely. It reminded her of the first time they met, when they stood in the darkness at a terrace railing. She had known then the chance encounter had shifted her perspective, but she didn't know how circumstances would align to reintroduce her to the man who after a year still haunted her dreams as a vague outline bathed in a dim yellow glow.

_She had presented Mr. Larkin with a perfect document in record time, a document he had stressed was extremely important and time-sensitive, but didn't even glance at when she placed it on his desk with barely contained pride. No, he had instead raked his pale grey eyes up and down her slender height, lasciviously taking in the classic brown tweed pencil skirt and soft beige sweater she wore and told her how nice she looked, that he was proud he had snagged the prettiest girl in the steno pool as his secretary. When he would have touched her, she shied away, making an excuse that she had to finish the correspondence since she had dropped everything to complete the very important contract for him. She fairly ran from his private office to her desk on the other side of the door. Her very public desk enclosed by a short, gated railing that exposed her to almost every other person in the firm._

_As she dejectedly sat herself down and ratcheted paper into her typewriter, her thoughts turned dour. She had been so proud and happy to be promoted from the steno pool to be Mr. Larkin's personal secretary. He was young and dynamic, and gossip around the firm was that he was being groomed to someday take over the reins of the entire outfit. The position meant a great deal of prestige, more money, and increased responsibility, everything she had been dreaming of since moving to California. Only all of that came with thinly veiled assaults on her womanhood, lecherous comments about her shapeliness, about her pretty face and the intoxicating perfume she wore. She stopped wearing perfume, exchanged her favorite three-inch pumps for flats, and toned down her make-up. Mr. Larkin hardly noticed. As a matter of fact, he seemed to like her natural look better, and the comments grew in boldness. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as her anger and frustration intensified, the clacking of the keys a welcome diversion._

"_Della. Della. __**Della**__!"_

_She looked up and blinked. Standing in front of her was the steno pool supervisor, Marge Bennett. The older woman smiled kindly at the younger woman and spoke more softly._

"_My goodness, girl, you certainly can concentrate on your work."_

_She looked at her former boss and blushed, embarrassed to be caught so entrenched in her disturbing thoughts. "I'm sorry, Miss Bennett. I guess I was in my own little world."_

"_That's perfectly all right, my dear, I understand. I always told everyone you were the best typist I'd ever seen. It's probably that concentration that makes you so good at it. It's probably why you're so good at everything you do. That's why I think it's time for you to go."_

"_Time for me to go? Am I being fired?" She was shocked. Had Mr. Larkin complained about her? Had her standoffishness and deflection of his advances caused him to rethink his decision to hire her as his secretary? "I don't understand. I don't want to leave. I need this job, Miss Bennett. Surely if Mr. Larkin isn't pleased with my performance I can go back to –"_

_Marge Bennett held up her hand. "Della, stop! You have it all wrong, dear. I'm not here to fire you – only Mr. Larkin can do that now. I'm here because I can see that despite your protests, you aren't happy being that man's secretary, and I have an opportunity I think you should look into."_

_She sat back against her chair in relief. "Thank goodness. I thought Mr. Larkin had…" she didn't finish her sentence. She wouldn't tell Miss Bennett how unhappy she was with Mr. Larkin's behavior. She could handle it, could handle him, but would he accept how she handled it?_

"_Carol Simmons called today. She used to work in the steno pool, but now she works for an attorney – a criminal trial lawyer. His office is in the Brent Building over on 4__th__ and Grand, right off of Broadway. Anyway, Carol called a little while ago because she's getting married in a few weeks and her husband doesn't want her working once they're married. Her boss is in dire need of a secretary, but no applicant so far has been satisfactory. Carol is desperate and was hoping I could recommend someone and I immediately thought of you. You aren't meant to work for a man like Mr. Larkin. He's uninteresting and common. You need a challenge. So I hope you don't mind, but I scheduled an interview for you at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. I also scheduled Arlene to cover for you." She paused to take a deep breath. "Della, I think you might be just what this lawyer is looking for from Carol's description of the job. He's beginning to really make a name for himself in the legal community. Carol says he's tough, but fair, and he doesn't ask anyone to do something he himself wouldn't be willing to do. He has high standards for himself and for his secretary, and conducts himself with dignity."_

_She looked at Miss Bennett with just a bit of skepticism. "I don't have any experience being a legal secretary," she pointed out. "Why would an attorney on the rise even consider taking on a secretary with no experience in his field?"_

_Miss Bennett smiled. "Carol says he's very unusual in his appraisal of people. He's trained himself to arrive at accurate first impressions and he's not averse to hiring someone with no experience because he doesn't mind training the right person for the job. Carol had very little experience in the legal field but he took a chance on her because he liked her and saw in her someone he could work with. I think you should take a chance, Della. You have nothing to lose. This job could be the adventure you've been looking for, the challenge I know you want."_

_She sighed. She was pleased Miss Bennett thought enough of her to recommend her for such an opportunity, but she was still a bit unsure. "All right, I'll go. But what if Mr. Larkin finds out I'm interviewing for another position?"_

"_Just leave the explaining to me. I'll take care of everything. You just go to that interview, be yourself, and get that job." Miss Bennett leaned down and patted her hand reassuringly. "Then come back and tell me all about it." She turned to leave._

"_Miss Bennett! What's his name…this lawyer I have the interview with?"_

_Miss Bennett squinted at a piece of paper in her hand. "Mason," she replied. "Perry Mason."_

"Hellooo, where are you, darling?"

Della snapped back to the present. She smiled. "I was at my desk talking with Marge Bennett."

Perry was confused. "At your desk talking to whom?"

"Marge Bennett. You remember her - she set up my interview with you."

"Ah yes, I certainly do remember her. Our unintentional matchmaker."

Della drew his arms more snugly around her. "I was shocked she thought of me when Carol Simmons called for a recommendation."

Perry rested his chin on her shoulder, head pressed close to hers. "No one I interviewed was adequate," he remembered. "Carol was afraid I wouldn't let her get married if I didn't have a new secretary."

"So I was merely adequate, Counselor?"

"Oh no. You, Miss Street, were much more than adequate. On paper you were woefully inexperienced, but in person you were everything, and more, I could have hoped for."

She knew what the 'and more' meant. She had been searching for him as well. "If we hadn't met before, would you still have hired me?"

"In a heartbeat," he answered in a heartbeat.

She sighed contentedly. The view from the upper porch was spectacular and she could barely believe the house was hers. Before any more furniture was brought into the house, they had to put chairs – no, a chaise – on it so they could sit together and marvel at the world. She shivered uncontrollably.

"What's the matter, darling?"

She continued to shiver. "I was just thinking about all the lovely days and nights we'll share on this porch and it makes me happy."

Perry hugged her, rocked her from side to side. "It makes me happy, too, my love," he whispered. Then he straightened and turned her in his arms. "I just remembered we left our luggage and supplies in the car. Maybe we should bring everything in and put it away. Then I'll start dinner. How does steak, sautéed mushrooms, and fried potatoes sound to you?"

"Add a bottle of wine to the menu and I think I could manage to choke it down."

He closed the French door to the porch behind them. "Aren't you hungry? We don't have to have a big meal tonight."

She wasn't very hungry, but it was still early. By the time they unpacked everything and dinner was actually cooked she would most likely be ravenous. "I have a lump in my throat," she admitted. "And my heart is so full of love for you my chest is tight. I'm trying very hard not to cry constantly I'm so happy."

Perry gently wrapped his arms around her and kissed her for a long, long time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 2.3 – Eight Sneezes**

Furnishings were sparse because Perry said Martin was searching for just the right pieces, and Perry told Della that he would not be offended if she didn't like any of his choices. He had only recently added the dining room table and serving buffet, as well as the canopy bed. In the blue and yellow kitchen he had placed a sturdy oblong table and six ladder-backed chairs painted white to match the cabinets. He had even thought to stock the cabinets with dark blue Fiesta dinnerware and plenty of simple, sturdy silverware. She had no complaints with Martin's taste in furnishings, especially the overstuffed blue sofa and chairs in the living room and the scattered roped area rugs he'd tossed over the gleaming parquet floors. The colors he'd used – blue and yellow and creamy white – were the exact colors of the Martin's house in New Jersey. The master bedroom was green because it was Perry's favorite color and he didn't think she would mind (and she didn't – it was a soothing, calm room).

Perry carried their suitcases upstairs and left her to put away what she could in the closet on wooden hangers courtesy of Martin. She was really looking forward to meeting the designer who had taken her childhood memories to heart and translated them so perfectly. But not until their next trip. Perry was right. She wanted to see no one but him until they had to return to Los Angeles and the demands people in trouble made on them.

Finished with hanging clothes and laying out toiletries in the blue and white bathroom across the hall – outfitted by Martin with fluffy white towels – Della stood in the middle of the bedroom and hugged herself. What she had ever done to deserve this was beyond her, but she would accept it gladly, with all the love she had for him. As happy as she had been at discovering the house was hers – theirs – she knew he was even happier to be able to give it to her. And knowing that he had kept this secret from her for months amazed her. But then her handsome attorney had a renowned reputation for keeping things to himself, and even though she had made progress in drawing him out, she knew he still kept secrets from her. Sometimes it bothered her, but then she weighed it against her own little secrets and felt that they were probably running neck and neck in reticence about certain aspects of their lives, so she wouldn't make an issue of it. They had a lifetime of sharing ahead of them, and no doubt they would eventually uncover even the most deeply buried facts about one another.

She started down the staircase, humming her favorite song when she was overtaken by sneezing without a warning tickle. She sneezed violently, in doubles, four times, very loudly. Eight consecutive sneezes within a few seconds. With no air in her bursting lungs, she sank to the steps, clinging to the hand-wrought oak balusters for dear life, gasping for breath.

Perry came dashing from the back of the house, a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, a partially peeled potato in one hand, the peeler in the other. He dropped both as he saw her struggling to catch her breath, fingers wrapped in white-knuckled desperation around the balusters. He took the stairs three at time until he was at her side, rubbing her back, urging her to calm down, to take small breaths. Her nose was running and in her panic to catch her breath she began to cough, which only stole what little breath she managed to take in. Her eyes were wide with fright and her hand clawed at him in a plea to help her.

All he could do was continue helplessly rubbing her back. He thought she was hyperventilating and needed to breathe in a paper bag, but she had a death-grip on the baluster – as well as on his shirt – and was so stiff with fear he doubted he could pick her up and carry her to the kitchen. And he couldn't leave her, not when she was so panicked.

She stopped coughing and attempted to take big gulping breaths. He told her to slow down, take smaller breaths, but not _**too**_ small. The look she shot him was still panicked, but annoyed as well. He nearly laughed in relief. She let go of his shirt to clutch her chest, and he became frightened all over again. But it gave him the opportunity to run downstairs to the kitchen, snatch a paper bag from the counter, and leap back up the stairs. He scrunched the bag with one hand, pushed her head down toward it and instructed her to breathe. She fought him at first, but then when she realized her breathing was actually improving, she gripped his arm and gratefully followed his instructions. In a few moments her breathing was almost normal and she struggled to lift her head. He made her take another half-dozen breaths in the bag and then reluctantly allowed her to sit up. She leaned against the balusters and closed her eyes.

"What happened there, baby?" He asked in a strangled whisper, again reaching out to rub her back.

She rolled her head from side to side. "I don't know," her voice was raspy, and she cleared her throat with a grimace. "I sneezed and couldn't breathe."

He yanked the towel from his shoulder and gently wiped her running nose. "Blow," he commanded.

She tried to pull away. "I'm not going to blow my nose on a brand-new towel," she protested.

"Blow," he commanded again. "I don't have a handkerchief on me and I'm not leaving you to get a tissue from your purse."

So she blew her nose impressively into the lovely blue and white flowered towel Martin had chosen for her kitchen. Well, for Perry's kitchen…

He balled up the towel, set it on the stair behind him and gathered her into his arms. She sank into him and let him rock her. "You scared me, Della" he told her in that same choked whisper.

Della gave a snort of a laugh. "I scared myself," she admitted ruefully. "But you were marvelous, darling. You were so calm and authoritative. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here. You really are my hero."

He rocked her in silence for several seconds, trying not to think what would have happened if he hadn't been here, as he listened intently to the sound and pattern of her breathing. It was a bit wheezy and he kicked himself for not insisting she see their doctor Chris Sadler before they left. "Feel well enough to stand up?"

She nodded and leaned on him heavily as he helped her to her feet. She wobbled a bit, but after taking a few steps she seemed fine. He guided her up the stairs and into the bedroom, and despite much protesting, managed to get her onto the bed, to take off her shoes, and to make her lie down. He covered her with the crocheted throw Martin had placed at the foot of the bed and tucked it around her, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was warm. He rested the back of his hand against her check, and then slid it around to the nape of her neck.

"You wouldn't have packed a thermometer by any chance would you?" he asked. "I think you're warm."

"Perry, of course I'm warm. I just sneezed eight times in eight seconds and breathed into a paper bag for five minutes." She fought back a cough and cleared her throat. Her voice was almost back to normal. "I didn't pack a thermometer. Why would I? Martin has been so thorough about everything else maybe he put one in the medicine cabinet."

Perry brushed damp curls from her forehead and regarded her with worried eyes. "Maybe he did," he said doubtfully, and headed across the hall to check. But as thorough as Martin had been in preparing the house at a moment's notice for this unexpected visit, he hadn't stocked the medicine cabinet with anything. When he returned to the bedroom she was sitting up, the crocheted throw wrapped around her shoulders. "Lay down, Miss Street."

She shook her head. "I'm fine, darling, really. I just got panicked when I couldn't breathe and that made everything worse than it should have been. Let's go downstairs and I'll watch you cook dinner. I like to watch you cook for me." She grinned.

His grin was slow to materialize until she reached out and took his hand so she could jump from the great height of the bed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Perry watched her through preparations for dinner and dinner itself for any sign of sickness, but was relieved that despite her claim that a lump in her throat would get in the way of eating, she actually ate quite heartily, and matched him glass for glass in drinking the mellow red wine he had selected to accompany the meal.

She insisted upon cleaning the kitchen and he reluctantly wandered into the living room, immediately bereft of her company. Martin might not have thought about stocking the medicine cabinet with a thermometer, but he had thought to fill a large brass coal hod with firewood. Perry built a nice little fire and settled himself on the deep sofa, rearranging the colorful accent pillows so Della would be comfortable when she finally joined him.

It wasn't long before he heard her steps on the hardwood as she walked unhurriedly down the hallway toward the living room. She carried two cups of coffee, which he took from her as she climbed onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath and to the side of her, the crocheted throw once again wrapped around her shoulders. She leaned against his shoulder and stared into the fire.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he replied immediately.

"Do you even know what I'm thanking you for?"

"Doesn't matter. The pleasure was all mine, my love."

She laughed. And coughed. The laugh sounded wheezy, the cough dry and unproductive. She clutched her chest again and it worried him afresh. "All that sneezing and coughing hurt my chest," she explained.

Despite his worry, Perry turned and gently pulled her legs out from under her, pushed her back against the pile of pillows he had arranged earlier. She giggled at his obvious intent. "I could give you a chest massage," he said suggestively, settling himself in the cradle of her hips.

She wound her arms around his neck, enfolding him in the throw as well. "What would Martin think if he knew what you want to do on his beautiful couch?"

"Note that the fabric is durable and highly cleanable. I think Martin sized me up and bought a couch suited to my needs."

She laughed again. "You are incorrigible, my darling. And you have a one-track mind."

"We haven't…been together…since the Pierce case began," he reminded her, lowering his head to taste the side of her neck.

"Have you forgotten about this morning and this afternoon?"

"Absolutely not, baby. Every time with you is unforgettable. I've never loved anyone the way I love you, Della, you have to know that."

She happily allowed his lips to ravish her neck, let his hands cup her breasts through the fabric of her blouse, his thumbs flicking against tender, responsive peaks. "I love you, too, Perry. I have never loved anyone so much in my life, either."

He lifted his head suddenly. "Then we should…"

She pressed two fingers to his lips. "No, we shouldn't. I wondered when you would get around to this conversation."

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "We love each other and we have this house now. Let's get married."

She stroked his chest with one hand. "Did you buy this house to coerce me into marrying you?"

"Of course not. Do you think so little of me?"

She lowered her eyes. "I think everything of you, darling. But the same reasons for why I can't marry you still exist, my poor, frustrated Perry, especially now that we have this house. I know how much you love me and I'm very, very happy."

"I don't think I'll ever understand you, Della. I love you, every molecule of you, and I know you better than I know myself, but there is a part of you that will forever remain a mystery to me."

Her smile was slow and satisfied. "And that is how it should be, darling."

"Marry me, Della."

She shook her head. "No, Perry," she declined softly.

He sighed hugely and attempted to sit up. She grasped him by the shirtfront. "Don't you dare start something like this and then walk away, Perry Mason."

"I'm not a wind-up toy, Della. The mood has passed."

"Are you really going to pout? It's not like I've never refused your proposals before."

"That's true, but my recovery time is getting longer. You might try checking in with me later."

She burst out laughing. "You really don't do pouty well, Mr. Mason. Come here."

He relented and let his hands resume their exploration of her breasts through the barrier of her blouse, an agonizingly pleasurable experience for both of them. When he finally dispatched with the buttons and his mouth found each pebbly peak, she groaned. Her hands worked on his belt buckle while she lifted her hips against his rhythmically, a foreshadowing of what was inevitable.

"Okay," he gasped, "that winds me up again."


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 2.4 – That's Why**

Della awoke alone. Her throat was sore, her chest tight and her head congested. She had coughed a bit throughout the night, waking up Perry several times as she tried to get comfortable after each spate of painful dry hacking. She finally disentangled herself from his arms under protest and turned her back to him so he could get some sleep and she could be free to toss restlessly. Damn. Why did she have to come down with a cold now? Now, when they were totally alone with nothing to do but enjoy each other and explore their lovely house together.

She threw back the covers and sat up, steadying herself as her stuffy head made the room swim before her eyes. Oh, this was not good. She slid to the floor and steadied herself by keeping one hand on the bed until her head cleared. Dressing quickly in a pair of rolled up dungarees, an oversized white oxford cloth shirt, untucked, and a pair of thick socks; she pulled her hair away from her face with a headband and went in search of Perry.

He was in the kitchen, seated at the glossy painted table, a cup of coffee and a sheaf of papers in front of him. He looked up and smiled as she entered the homey room. "Hello there, young lady. Have you by any chance seen my very grown up and sophisticated secretary?"

She yawned and shuffled over to sit on his lap, her arms winding around his neck and pulling him into a heady kiss. "Are you saying I look like a child?"

"You may look like a child, but you definitely kiss like my very grown up secretary." He rubbed her back as she laid her head on his shoulder. "How do you feel this morning, darling?"

She shrugged. "Not terrible, but not terrific. Somewhere in between. Do you think we might be able to fit a nap into our busy schedule today? I may need one later."

"If you didn't get enough sleep, go back to bed. I've got plenty to keep me occupied." He nuzzled her forehead as a pretense to checking her temperature. It was as warm as the day before following her sneezing fit. "I'll be lonely without you, but I'd rather you be rested and well than tired and sick. How about a cup of tea? That might fix you up. I haven't had breakfast, so I'll just scramble some eggs and….what?"

She was shaking her head. "Just tea, please. I'm not hungry."

"Baby, you need to eat. Just some plain eggs. I won't put hot sauce in them."

She continued to shake her head. "I'll eat later."

"Della Street, look at me," he said sternly.

She raised surprised eyes to his. He hadn't used that tone of voice with her since…well, since ever.

"If you don't eat, I'm taking you home and straight to Chris Sadler's office, do you hear me? If you're too sick to eat, you're too sick to spend a week away from home."

"But I am home," she protested weakly. "How about toast? I'll have tea and toast." She loved that he worried about her, but sometimes he smothered her with that worry and his over-solicitous care. She wouldn't spoil this time with him by succumbing to a little cold. But she just couldn't bear to think about eating eggs right now.

He regarded her with worried eyes for a few seconds longer, and then patted the top of her head. "All right, Milady, tea and toast it is. Go find your own chair and I'll prepare the best breakfast toast you've ever had." He busied himself putting the teakettle on to boil, retrieving eggs from the refrigerator, taking the bread out of the breadbox.

Della watched him with amused affection, elbow on the table and chin resting on her upward turned palm, as he puttered about the large kitchen, alternately whistling 'Moonlight Serenade' and muttering to himself when he couldn't find what utensil he needed. The expression of amused affection became a smile. "I love you," she said.

He turned away from the stove where he was stirring the beaten eggs into a fluffy scramble. "I love you, too."

"If we were married would you make me breakfast every morning?"

The stunning question clutched at his heart. "Every morning for the rest of my life," he vowed, taking a step toward her. "Della – "

She held up her hand. "I'm just gathering information," she told him. "Don't scorch the eggs."

He returned his attention to the task at hand, so she couldn't see the deflated dejection of his psyche reflected in his eyes. "Is there any more information I can provide at this time, Miss Street?"

"Not at the moment, Counselor. Let me mull that last bit over for a while."

"You drive me nuts, Della. You know that, don't you?" The teakettle whistled, the eggs were fluffy perfection, and the toast was golden brown, simultaneously. He buttered the toast, drizzled honey on it, cut it into triangles, poured hot water over a tea infuser into a large cup, spooned the eggs onto a plate, and managed to carry everything from the stove to the table in one trip.

She picked up the cup and blew on the steaming tea. "Thank you, darling. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. You drive me nuts, too."

He rolled his eyes. "Now I've started something, haven't I?"

"On the contrary, I'm quite flattered."

He watched her delicately nibble at her honey toast while he toyed with his eggs in silence. She drank two cups of tea and ate every triangle of toast. He took her plate to the sink along with his, where he threw out cold, rubbery eggs as she frowned at him.

"Do I have to take you home to see Chris Sadler?" She raised inquisitive eyebrows in a mild threat.

He leaned back against the sink, crossed one leg over the other, his arms hugging his massive chest. He had two choices. He could let it go that she had heartlessly toyed with his wish to marry her and spend the rest of the week in bliss, or he could let her know just how deeply her words had wounded him and spend the week avoiding her recriminating looks. He chose bliss.

He shrugged. "I should have had toast with you. We'll have stew and bread and butter for lunch to make up for breakfast."

She stood and moved toward him. He opened his arms to her and held her close. How could he love her so much and be so annoyed with her at the same time? Maybe that was what true love was, that no matter how annoyed and frustrated she made him, he never stopped loving her and couldn't imagine what life would be like without her.

"What is the plan for the day? Can we go outside and survey our kingdom?"

He smiled and stroked her cheek. "No, we can't go outside because it's cold, the wind is blowing and there is a light drizzle falling. I'm not taking any chances with you. So we're staying inside. We can explore the house and go over the plans for the remodel, or play cards, or listen to the radio, or read, or…"

"That one," she said decisively. "Read to me."

He kissed her soundly. "I think Martin stocked the shelves with books. You pick one out and get comfortable on the couch. I'll start the stew and be there as quickly as I can."

"Don't be long. I'll miss you terribly."

Perry watched her retreat from the kitchen, her feminine curves disguised but not completely hidden in the dungarees and oversized shirt. How could he not love this woman? The mystery was why this woman loved him, what she saw in him that was worthy of her love. She brought out the best in him, his gruffness and impatience cured in her presence. Sometimes, when he woke up without her, he would have a moment of panic that she wasn't real, that he merely dreamed her, that his entire life these past few years was a dream. But then he would call her, or she would walk into the office with that smile, that dazzling smile, and he would sigh in relief.

He made short work of browning the stew meat, making the bouillon stock, peeling the potatoes and carrots, chopping onions and garlic, and putting it all in a large pot to simmer. After straightening up the kitchen and putting everything away, he stirred the stew one more time and then headed to the living room with a cup of tea and honey for her and a cup of coffee for him.

Della was on the couch, huddled in her new favorite accessory, the crocheted throw, staring out the window at the blustery winter weather. She smiled beatifically and he nearly stumbled over his feet. Even with no make-up and her hair scraped back with a headband, she was beyond beautiful to him. She held her hand out to him, and he passed the mug of tea to her, which she sipped from gratefully. He sat down next to her and gazed out the window with her.

"So, you like the house?"

"That's a silly question, Counselor. I _**love**_ the house. I love _**you**_. I love this _**day**_. We're alone together and you're going to read _Anatomy of a Murder_ to me, and we're going to have stew for lunch, and I'm going to beat you rather embarrassingly at cards…" she sighed contentedly.

"Are you serious, darling? _Anatomy of a Murder_?"

"I'm completely serious. It's a good book."

"I have no doubt that it is, but sweetheart, _Anatomy of a Murder_?"

"I hear it's being made into a movie."

"That's nice, honey. Really, _Anatomy of a Murder_?"

Her lips were trembling with a barely contained smile. She handed the book to him. He stared at the dust jacket.

"It's actually _Anatomy of a Murder_. I say it again; I will never figure you out, Della Street." He opened the book to the first page while she settled against him.

Della often thought Perry had missed his calling and should be an actor. She thought about it mostly when she was bone tired during a case and he would pace the floor, talking out his own thoughts, or practicing his summation, when he needed her to listen but not speak. His voice, that expressively deep, spine-tingling, powerful voice, would take hold of her and she envisioned him projected twelve feet tall on a movie screen, his piercing blue eyes staring out from under ferociously knitted brows. His devastatingly handsome face, impressive physique, and commanding presence would make him an instant leading man, of that she was certain. The fantasy never lasted beyond a few seconds, however, because along with leading man status came beautiful leading ladies, and there was no way she could stand for him to touch another woman, not even in the make-believe world of Hollywood. No, those long-fingered hands would touch no woman but her, those finely shaped lips would kiss no lips but hers, those gorgeous blue eyes would look lovingly into no eyes but hers.

He read aloud for two hours, pausing only to stir the stew every couple of chapters or when she needed to go to the bathroom because she'd had three big cups of tea, don't you know. When he resettled himself after attending to their lunch again and she had made one more trip to the bathroom, she climbed into his lap and laid her head on his shoulder, unceremoniously shoving the book to the floor.

"I was hoping you'd do this eventually, baby," he told her. "This is what was next on my list of things to do today before you chose reading."

"I like it when we're away from the office," she said with a yawn. "You're relaxed and silly."

"I am not, and never have been, silly. Except about you."

Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt, slipping beneath to caress his neck. "Why do you love me?"

"I was thinking the same thing this morning. Only it was why do you love me?"

"I asked first."

"Ah, but I'm the boss."

"Stop pulling rank. Jeez-o-pete, I let you get away with it once, and now you expect it to work all the time."

He grinned. "I love _**that**_. How you verbally taunt me." And it tickles me no end when you say 'jeez-o-pete', he added silently.

"What else?"

"You're smart. And a smart-aleck. I can talk to you and you always understand, always have an opinion."

"Go on."

"You're efficient and capable and loyal."

"A secretary is efficient and capable. A dog is loyal. Why do you love _**me**_?"

He chuckled. "My darling, I can't pick out individually what I love about you because I love everything…everything you are. You're my whole world, Della. I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't with me."

She surreptitiously wiped at a tear. "Is that the best you can do?"

He laughed heartily from his soul and hugged her.

"Don't you want to know why I love you?"

He brushed gentle lips across her forehead. Still warm. "I really don't need to know why," he said quietly. "I just need to know that you do."

She was silent for a long time. "That's why," she finally said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Della ate a bowl of Perry's delicious stew and two pieces of bread, and he was pleased. She still sounded a bit wheezy when she laughed, but she wasn't sneezing, and her coughing was minimal. She told him her throat felt 'tickly' sometimes so she coughed to 'scratch' the tickle. Her chest was tight, but she insisted it was because of the sneezing and coughing from yesterday. Her head congestion was tolerable and she refused to allow him to go into town for a bottle of aspirin. He plied her with honey tea until she said her back teeth were swimming, but she sounded so much better and was so much more alert while drinking it that he figured there was no such thing as too much and forced yet another cup on her. They cleaned the kitchen together and he showed her all the things Martin had bought for them, and her eyes shone like a child's on Christmas morning.

As the day moved into evening, Della made good on her promise to embarrass him at cards, and he read a few more chapters from _Anatomy of a Murder_, until it was time for dinner, which he planned to be spaghetti and salad since they had had such a hearty lunch. He turned on the portable radio and they sang the chorus of every popular song off-key on purpose while Perry diced and cooked down the tomatoes, expertly adding spices until he declared the concoction officially spaghetti sauce. Della tossed a salad and left him to boil the pasta while she prepared the table.

Della discovered candles and candle holders in the dining room buffet, as well as woven placemats, which she used to set the coffee table in the living room. She actually built a fire, and was standing before it being terribly proud of herself when Perry entered the room with plates of spaghetti covered with freshly grated parmesan cheese. He eyed her approvingly, alluring even in her dungarees and mannish shirt. It just wasn't possible to love a woman more than he loved her. And it wasn't possible that there was a more beautiful woman in the world.

He wasn't as pleased with her appetite at dinner. She ate half of her serving of spaghetti, almost none of her salad, and sipped tentatively at her Chianti. Her breathing was noticeably shallower, and he could plainly hear the wheezing. But that was how whatever was ailing her acted: she was generally fine during the day, and at night she sounded worse. In the morning, after she moved around, it cleared up and she would be 'somewhere between terrible and terrific'. When it was apparent she was just going to push the rest of her spaghetti around the plate, he banished her to a bath while he cleaned up the dinner mess. There were shadows forming under eyes that flashed him a grateful look of relief.

"Thank you for dinner, honey," she said. "It was delicious. My head is getting stuffy again. I think I'll take a shower because I'd fall asleep in the tub."

Perry stacked their plates and tried not to look worried. "If you're still in the shower when I'm done I'll scrub your back."

She laughed and it was almost a bark. He whipped his head around toward the sound, but she seemed unconcerned with it. He followed her down the hallway and watched her climb wearily partway up the stairs before heading into the kitchen. The kitchen clean-up he performed probably wasn't the best, but he didn't want to be away from her for very long, especially when he didn't hear the shower turn on. Maybe she was waiting for him to come up and join her. That made him smile.

His left foot just hit the midpoint landing when he heard her sneeze. A double. She sneezed again, another double. Then a single sneeze and a choking cough. He grabbed the banister and pulled himself up the remaining eight stairs in two strides, bursting into the bedroom to find her dressed in only the oxford cloth shirt and socks, the dungarees lying on the floor at her feet. Della was hugging a bedpost, her hand splayed across her chest, applying counter pressure while she coughed. The cough was slightly wetter than previously, signaling that her congestion might be moving to her chest. She waved him away as she gave one last cough and drew in a difficult, wheezing breath.

"Well, I didn't like _**that**_," she said.

He crossed to her in two long strides, took her in his arms, picked her up, and hugged her. "I didn't like it, either," he admitted into her hair. "Why aren't you in the shower?"

"I was waiting for you," she told him with a wan smile as he set her back down on the floor.

He took her hand and led her from the bedroom and down the hall into the second bathroom. The front bathroom contained a large tub, but this bathroom boasted a spacious stand up shower. He turned on the water and tested the temperature several times to ensure it wasn't scalding, then made quick work of the buttons on her shirt. He left her to remove her undergarments herself because Martin hadn't stocked this bathroom with towels. When he returned from fetching a couple of clean towels from the front bathroom, she was standing gloriously nude outside the shower, her head bent against the door, inhaling the steam permeating the room. He gently took her arm and pulled her away from the door, opened it, and helped her inside the shower stall.

"Don't get your hair wet," he cautioned.

She tilted her head back and let the jetting water pound down on her chest. "Aren't you coming in with me?"

He shook his head. "You need this. If I got in there with you, we might do more harm than good."

She smiled at him mischievously. "On the other hand…"

Perry shook his head again, amazed how she could be sick and frisky at the same time. "There is no other hand, darling. Just stand in the steam and when I think you've had enough, I'll come get you." He closed the shower door firmly and backed out of the room, closing the door to the bathroom behind him as well.

In the bedroom he searched through her suitcase for a nightgown, because the lingerie they had purchased on the way here was decidedly impractical for someone fighting a cold, and he wasn't about to let her sleep in the buff as she had the previous night after he'd chased her up the stairs following their tryst on the couch. Finally, at the bottom of her suitcase he found a gown. Grabbing it and the pink terry cloth robe she had brought, he then looked everywhere for a pair of slippers. She must not have packed any. He sighed. The heavy socks she'd worn today would have to do. He shut the closet door and laid her things on the bed while he turned down the covers. Then he remembered the crocheted throw was still draped over the back of the couch and ran downstairs to get it, which was a good thing because all the lights were still on. After turning off everything and making sure the fireplace screen was drawn, he flew back up the stairs.

He knocked on the bathroom door, which was a bit ridiculous, and entered the small room, her nightclothes draped over one arm. Steam billowed out at him and he immediately began to sweat. She was humming and he was relieved. He opened the shower door and she turned a dazzling smile on him.

"Having second thoughts, Mr. Mason?"

"I rarely have second thoughts about anything, Miss Street, and now is no exception. Time to get out. I have your jammies."

"Where did you pick up a word like 'jammies'?" She let him turn off the water and pull her from the steamy stall and into the fluffy towel. He wrapped it around her and picked up another to dry her hair, which had become damp from the steam.

"The same place I picked up 'comfy' and 'snuggly'."

She dropped her head to his chest, impeding his efforts with her hair. "I'm such a bad influence on your vocabulary," she lamented.

"I disagree. Your influence has made my vocabulary eminently more understandable and real."

"I'll concede the point. But only because you used the word 'eminently'. A word like that more than makes up for a word like 'jammies'."

"It's nice to know that even with a cold you're still impossible." He massaged her head with the towel, making slow circles, then vigorously rubbed the mass of curls.

"That feels wonderful," she said. "Don't ever stop."

He chuckled. "You sound a lot better. Not nearly as congested."

"It's a miracle. I'm well."

He dropped the smaller towel to the floor and redirected his attention to drying her long, slender limbs and her lush, womanly curves. She swayed a bit in concert with his ministrations, occasionally making contented little noises in her throat. He kissed her nose. "There. All dry."

"You do spoil me, darling."

"It's my favorite thing to do."

"You are exceptionally good at it."

"You know what they say: anything worth doing is worth doing well. Arms up," he said, and dropped the nightie over her head.

She shimmied a bit to settle the gown around her and he nearly gasped with raw lust. If she knew what she did to him, even with something as innocent as putting on a night gown, she would think him terminally lecherous. He held out the robe and tied it securely at her waist. She placed her hand on his shoulder to steady herself as he knelt to put her socks back on after she confirmed that she had indeed forgotten to pack slippers, and when he stood again she slid her arms around his torso in a quick hug.

He looked down at her and smiled tenderly, moving damp ringlets from her forehead with one hand. "Do I carry you to the bedroom, Milady?"

Della shook her head. "I walk. It's your turn for a shower. I'll warm the bed for you." She grinned up at him. "Unless you want me to wait here and dry you off when you're done."

He bent and kissed her firmly. "No, I had better dry myself off. I'm determined not to be…affectionate with you tonight. You need your rest."

She frowned. "What if the cure for the common cold happens to be…affection? You can't withhold the very thing that will make me well. We owe it to the medical community to explore every treatment at our disposal."

Perry laughed and patted her bottom. "Trot along, temptress. Work on your argument while you warm up the bed and then we'll see what the judge says."

"How can you be opposing counsel _**and**_ judge?"

"Because I'm the boss."

"I should never have allowed you to be the boss in that argument. It's gone to your head. We were getting along just fine with me being the boss. If you insist upon being the boss it creates a whole new working dynamic and – "

He laughed, interrupting her facetious tirade. "One argument at a time, baby. I'll be there in five minutes."

Perry was back in the bedroom in six minutes, and found it lit by the candles abandoned in the living room. She had placed them on the copy of _Anatomy of a Murder_ since there was no furniture in the room aside from the bed. "Della, why did you go downstairs after the candles? You probably got chilled."

She peeked out from beneath the quilt at him. "Not a chance. I was like The Flash. Down, up, in the bed. My feet barely touched the floor."

He shook his head while he finished buttoning his pajama top, trying not to laugh. "I can see now that forcing you to drink seven cups of tea with honey was not the best idea I've ever had. You are positively manic."

"And I can see that the judge has rendered his decision since you're wearing your jammies."

He pulled back the covers and lowered his large frame to the mattress. "I hardly think these sinfully expensive silk pajamas my lady love gave me can be properly described as 'jammies'."

She grabbed his arm and pulled herself close to him. "Mmmm," she purred. "They feel good."

He realized she was not wearing her gown, only the socks he had put on her. "Della," he began, rolling over and pinning her to the mattress. She looked up at him with eyes that sparkled with love in the candlelight, her face flushed with desire, the rosy blush extending down her neck and to her perfect breasts. Her breathing was shallow, but didn't sound nearly as wheezy as earlier. He wanted her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted her, their verbal back and forth a catalyst to his prodigious desire.

"Let me spoil you," she whispered, taking his face in her hands and kissing him, her tongue insistent against his stubborn lips.


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 2.5 – Whiskey and Steam**

Perry was warm. No, warm didn't come near to describing it. He felt like he was in an oven set at four hundred degrees. He pushed the covers away but found no relief. The heat was incredible, his body literally burning alive. He clawed his way to wakefulness and as he became more aware, he realized that the heat source was beside him.

It was Della.

He sat bolt upright and flung the covers away from her. She was on her back, her body becoming rigid, eyes open but glassy and unseeing in the candlelight. Her hands clutched at the sheet and she let out a horrendous barking cough, followed by a terrifying gasp as she tried to draw air into her lungs. She arched off the mattress and her eyes closed, only to fly open as she coughed again, blood-splattered spittle spewing forth over her lips. He could almost hear the crackle of fluid in her lungs as she struggled to breathe and he was momentarily paralyzed.

He reached for her and pulled her stiff body toward him. She was hot, so hot, much hotter than a human being should be. She pushed against him as she fought to breathe and he feared she was on the verge of a massive convulsion from the extreme spike in her temperature. She battled the restrictive hold of his arms as he dragged her across the mattress and off the bed, holding her flat against him as he ran from the room. He had to cool her off, had to get her temperature down from this dangerous level. He briefly thought of filling the tub and submerging her, but that would take too long, so he ran down the hallway to the smaller bathroom, yanked open the shower door, turned on the water to what he hoped was simply lukewarm, and plunged into the stall with her. She let out a barking screech as the cool water hit her burning skin and her spine nearly snapped when she jerked backward, but within moments he could feel the rigidity in her body lessen.

"That's it, baby," he crooned, shifting her so that the water jetted directly onto her torso. "Come on, Della, fight it off. Let the water make you better." Her head fell forward against him as her body relaxed and even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he held her away from him under the shower head. "I've got you, darling. I won't let you go. We have to get your temperature down."

He began to shiver violently, from the cool water, from his overwhelming love for Della, and from his fear for her. But he stood his ground, turning her so that her back was plastered against his front, as the water continued to sluice over her fiery skin. She went limp and he nearly dropped her. He pulled her up and held her with shaking but strong arms. "Stay with me," he begged. "Listen to me, precious girl. You have to stay awake. You have to breathe, Della. You have to." He brushed wet curls away from her deathly pale face as her head lolled against his shoulder.

He shook her roughly, the force of his action necessary to save her life. "Wake up, Della! I'm the boss and I'm telling you not to leave me. Breathe, baby. Breathe!"

As if in reply Della suddenly stiffened in his arms again, made a mighty attempt to inflate her lungs, and then collapsed against him. He had to get her to breathe, had to somehow open up her air passages so he could get her to the hospital. The house had no phone and he couldn't leave Della alone and run to any of the neighbors – they were too far away, and would they even open their doors for a wild-eye naked stranger pounding on their door in the middle of the night?

Perry estimated they had been in the cool shower for nearly five minutes, with Della in and out of consciousness and laboring to breathe the entire time. Her temperature must be lower by now, he thought, his mind racing as to what should be done next to help her. He couldn't get any tea down her in this condition, and besides, it would take too long to boil the water. Steam! She had rallied after her shower, had seemed almost normal. Supporting Della's dead weight with one arm, he reached out and turned off the water. He opened the shower door, and half dragging, half carrying her, he used his feet to push the towels he'd left on the floor into a little nest and gently lowered her to it. He propped her against the tiled wall, in a corner created by the bumped-out shower stall and stroked her face.

"I have to get more towels, baby," he told her, trying to keep his voice calm. "Don't worry, I'll be close and I promise to come right back." He stood, reached into the shower and turned on the hot water full force. Immediately steam rose from the stall. Satisfied, he made sure she was securely tucked into the corner and hurried from the bathroom. He grabbed the remaining two towels from the large front bathroom and lost precious seconds arguing with himself about running downstairs for the bottle of bourbon in the kitchen. He remembered his aunt telling a story about when his cousin had croup and couldn't breathe, and how they had fed him whiskey. Perry didn't know if that was the proper thing to do, but his cousin survived and he was desperate for Della to breathe. He raced down the stairs, grabbed the bottle from the cabinet, and raced back up the stairs to the bathroom.

She was in the exact position he'd left her, and terror propelled him across the floor to her side. Oh God, she couldn't have stopped breathing, not in the short time he'd been gone. He shook her, slapped her face, called her name, until finally her eyes fluttered and she moaned. She coughed, that dry barking cough again and tried so hard to draw a breath. In an almost lucid moment her eyes looked directly into his and he nearly broke down in tears at the fear and pain he saw in them.

"That was good, honey," he encouraged her in a voice with much more strength than he felt. "You actually got some air, I know you did. Come on, Della, breathe for me." He pulled the stopper from the bottle of bourbon and held it to her lips. "I know you don't care for bourbon, baby, but drink it for me. Please honey, drink some. It will make you feel better. I promise you'll feel better. _**Della!**_ Stay with me, you hear?"

He forced her lips apart and tipped the bottle, spilling a bit of the whiskey into her mouth and massaging her throat, trying to get her to swallow. "Della, listen to me, precious girl. I'm right here and I'm trying to help you, but you've got to help me, too. Swallow the whiskey, Della. Swallow it and you'll feel better."

Miraculously and to his utter relief, she swallowed feebly. He poured a bit more of the bourbon into her mouth and tears streamed freely down his cheeks when she swallowed again. She could hear him. She was listening and obeying. "That's my girl. Just a little more, baby. Just a little more and you'll feel better."

She gave a sputtering cough and he lowered the bottle, set it aside. It was then that he noticed the rash on her chest. What he had thought was the blush of arousal must have been this rash. How could he have allowed her to…how selfish was he to place his pleasure over her health? But she had been so alert, so funny, and she had wanted to pleasure him, was in fact, determined to.

Perry unfolded one of the dry towels and wrapped it around her shoulders. She definitely felt much cooler, and he didn't know if it was wishful thinking or not, but she seemed to be breathing. Shallowly and with great effort, but she was breathing, not gasping for air or Heaven forbid, not breathing at all like before. He glanced into the shower. The hot water was running out, the steam thinning. It was time to make a run for it, to get her to the hospital.


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 3.1 – The Hospital**

The five-story building that was Carmel's Community Hospital loomed in the distance as Perry drove frantically through the rain and fog with his precious cargo lying prone on the back seat covered with the quilt from their new bed. Luckily, he had noticed signs for the hospital on their way into town, so he knew pretty much where the facility was located.

At present, Della's eyes were closed, with huge purple shadows beneath, her lips tinged with blue. She had been drifting in and out of consciousness ever since Perry had picked up her limp form from the bathroom floor, dressed her in her robe, exchanged her sodden socks for a dry pair and with the greatest care laid her on the back seat of his Cadillac.

Trying to remain calm and concentrate on the road in front of him now that the hospital was in sight, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned into the circular drive, stopping the car in front of the emergency room doors. The weather had slowed him down and he had been holding his breath almost the entire drive, so he took a few seconds to collect himself before flinging open the driver's door, jerking open the back door, and leaning in to get Della.

"We're here, baby," he spoke quietly. "We're at the hospital. It didn't take so very long did it? You'll be fine now, Della. They're going to take good care of you, and I'll be with you the entire time. I won't leave you, baby. I'll be with you no matter what." Swiftly, but gently, he gathered Della into his arms and carried her through the double doors.

The waiting room was almost empty, with only a handful of people seated in chairs, reading or talking amongst themselves. He hurried past them and up to the receiving desk, coming face to face with a nurse behind the counter. She looked up from paperwork attached to a clipboard and assessed the big man holding the obviously sick woman in his arms.

Perry's normally smooth voice betrayed him at that moment and shook as he spoke to the woman. "She's not breathing well," he began. "Her fever is very high and I think she had a convulsion. Her cough is horrible…I put her in the shower to cool her off…but I don't know how much good it did because she's still so hot. She - "

Megan Harper, R.N. held up her hand, recognizing the controlled panic in the man's voice. Despite her relative inexperience, she knew that what he needed was calm assurance and understanding. "Bring her around the desk and through this door to cubicle three Mr. – Mr…uh…"

"Mason."

"All right, bring Mrs. Mason in and I'll page Dr. Spencer right away. Patti is back there and will get your wife settled."

Perry moved quickly toward the door and Megan pushed a button to open it. He gave the young woman a grateful smile. "Thank you. She's never been this sick." He walked through the door and down the narrow hallway to cubicle three.

He carefully laid Della on the hospital bed and as he did so, he heard the page for Dr. Spencer and another young nurse bustled into the cubicle.

"Mr. Mason?"

Perry didn't look up. Della was trying to open her eyes and he wanted her to see him, and only him if she did. "Yes." He was holding her hand, stroking it gently.

"I'm Patti Jenkins. I'll be assisting Dr. Spencer. Don't worry, we're going to take good care of your wife. I'm going to get vital signs and listen to her chest. The doctor will be here any moment and after she examines your wife, she'll come out and talk to you. You can have a seat in the waiting room."

Perry straightened to his full height and stared down at the attractive blonde nurse. "I'm not leaving her," he said, his commanding voice fully restored. "I promised her I wouldn't leave. I'll stay out of the way, but I'm not leaving."

Patti opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it quickly. There was something about this man, something in his eyes and demeanor that told her she shouldn't get in his way. She met his piercing blue eyes then glanced at the patient. "All right, Mr. Mason, you can stay. But…"

"But what?"

"You'll have to sit at the foot of the bed," she indicated a chair off to the side of the bed with a nod of her head, "and you'll have to let go of her hand."

Perry bent over Della once again, smoothed damp curls from her forehead and kissed her. She was still so awfully hot. "The nurse is going to examine you now, baby, but I'll be right here. All you have to do is be a good girl and let the nurse take care of you. You can do that, can't you? I know you can, honey." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it before finally placing it gently on the quilt and backing away to stand where Pattie had directed him.

The curtain parted and Megan came in holding a clipboard. "Mr. Mason, we need you to fill out these forms. They're standard forms, you know, medical history, insurance information and such." The young woman eyed the tall man, noting that he seemed much more composed than when he'd first arrived. "You might be more comfortable filling these out in the waiting room."

"That's okay, Megan. Mr. Mason is fine here." Patti straightened from taking Della's pulse and smiled at the attorney. A look of silent understanding passed between her and her younger colleague.

Megan smiled as well. "Then I'll just leave these with you, Mr. Mason. Take your time. I know you're worried about your wife." She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "You look like you could use some coffee. If you'll tell me how you take it, I'll gladly bring a cup to you."

For a minute Perry didn't answer as he looked at the very pale, very sick woman he loved lying so still on the bed. Then he spoke, very quietly. "Thank you. I could use some coffee. I take it with both cream and sugar."

"Okay, I'll be back in a bit with coffee. You can relax, Mr. Mason. Patti knows what she's doing, and Dr. Spencer is our senior resident. She's very good."

As if on cue, the curtain parted and an attractive dark-haired woman wearing a long white lab coat and a stethoscope around her neck slipped into the now crowded cubicle. Megan excused herself quickly and pulled the curtain closed for privacy.

The young woman doctor extended her hand to Perry Mason. "I'm Dr. Spencer. I'm the resident on call tonight and I'll be taking care of your lovely wife. I'll examine her now and then I'll speak with you afterward so this would be a good time to fill out those forms," she told him pointedly in a heavy East coast accent.

Perry accepted her handshake in silence. She looked too young to be a doctor, about Della's age, and as accomplished and composed as Della was, he considered her a youngster compared to his own lofty age. Dr. Spencer appeared capable and spoke with authority, so he sat down in the chair that was much too small for him.

He looked down at the form on the clipboard, trying to focus his eyes on something other than the two women who were now hovering over Della, who remained eerily still, but who's labored breathing he could still hear.

_**Name_**_ Perry wrote down 'Della', and then stopped. He wanted badly to put down 'Mason', just this once. After all, what harm could it do? No one here knew them. He took care of Della's medical bills. He took care of a lot of her bills, even when she objected strenuously. He smiled inwardly remembering the night she had not only objected, but had thrown somewhat of a fit. Her eyes flashed darkly and her face flushed an infuriated red. She hadn't yelled…that wasn't who she was. But she had made her feelings known in no uncertain terms. Perry had let her have her snit, then had smiled and taken her into his arms, and with that boyish charm Della admitted she couldn't resist, explained why he did it, why he would continue to do it, and why she wasn't going to object anymore. By the time he'd kissed her and covered the exquisite emerald green sheath dress she wore (and which he was already making elaborate plans to remove later) with the matching wrap, and led her out of her apartment for a night of dinner and dancing, she was mollified and accepting of his largesse.

Perry looked down at the form again, sighed, and made a decision.

"Mr. Mason."

He jerked his head up. "Yes? What is it? What's wrong with her?" He had a terrible feeling nothing they had found was very good.

Dr. Spencer laid her hand on his shoulder gently. "I'm admitting your wife, Mr. Mason. She's a very sick woman. An x-ray will confirm it, but I believe she has an extremely aggressive bronchial pneumonia. Her eyes are glassy and I can't get her to focus. Her lips are bone dry, and she has a rash we often see with bronchial pneumonia. Her breathing is very shallow and labored, and I'm concerned about her lungs possibly collapsing. Mr. Mason, this type of pneumonia can be very serious if not caught and treated in time. I'm starting her on a very strong antibiotic right away, before we get a chest x-ray. It's relatively new, but we've had good results." The hand on his shoulder gripped him tighter. "She'll have to be in an oxygen tent to help her breathe and on an ice blanket to get her fever down. It's currently one-oh-three point four, and that in itself is not good because once a person's temperature reaches one-oh-four they can convulse."

Perry swallowed with difficulty. "I think her temperature already spiked well past that point Dr. Spencer. I woke up and she was stiff, her back arched, and her eyes were rolling back in her head. I put her in the shower, and after a few minutes she went limp."

The doctor watched his complexion go grey and how his hands began to shake. He tried to disguise it, but she had seen enough frightened, worried people to know when one was at the jumping off point of terror. She patted his shoulder. "You did exactly the right thing," she assured him. "What else did you do?"

Perry passed his shaking hand over his face wearily. "When she felt cooler, I sat her on the floor and turned on the hot water. Then I forced some whiskey down her. I had no idea if anything I did was right or wrong, I only wanted to make her breathe." He took a long shuddering breath. "After the hot water ran out I put her robe on, wrapped her in the quilt and drove her here."

The young doctor's hand tightened once again on his shoulder. "Mr. Mason, she's going to be okay. She's young, and from all outside appearances looks to be in good health. You did fine, Mr. Mason. You should be proud of yourself. A room should be ready upstairs for her shortly, and we'll get a chest x-ray with a portable machine up there. You can stay here with her until it's time to take her upstairs. Do you have any questions?"

He gave a short, rueful snort. "Only about a million, doctor, but I can't put my thoughts together coherently at this time. I do have to tell you something, however. I promised I wouldn't leave her, so I will be staying with her upstairs. I know she can hear me and it's important that I keep my promise." He ran both hands through his damp hair. "She's my whole world," he whispered. "I can't…I wouldn't…there is nothing without her."

Dr. Spencer felt the prick of unexpected tears. She was supposed to present detached concern, to soothe and calm, but this big man and his raw vulnerability got under her skin. "Mr. Mason, it's my belief that patients recover more quickly if their loved ones are nearby. It's often the best medicine we have. Some of my older colleagues don't agree, but they're not here and not in charge of your wife's case. So Mr. Mason, I'm going to arrange it so you can stay with her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see what we can do to speed things along. And for what it's worth, I think she's one lucky lady."

Perry's voice almost broke. "You have that all wrong, Dr. Spencer. I'm the lucky one. I thank God for her every day…every single day."

Once again the doctor laid a compassionate hand on Perry's shoulder. She smiled encouragingly and turned to leave. Perry stood, picked up the chair and moved it next to the bed, close to Della's head. Sensing his need for privacy, Patti checked the IV line efficiently and stepped toward the closed curtain.

"I'm through now, Mr. Mason. An orderly should be here any minute. I have to take care of some things, but if you need me, just press the call button. It's on her pillow."

Perry nodded his head in acknowledgement, his eyes riveted to Della's extraordinarily pale but ethereally beautiful face. He rubbed his hand over his face again. He was physically exhausted and emotionally drained but there was no way in hell he was going to rest now. Not when Della needed him so much. He was about to take her hand when the orderly arrived. The young man introduced himself to Perry as Joe, quickly and efficiently transferred Della's slight weight to a transport gurney, and in a matter of minutes was motioning to Perry to follow him. Perry walked alongside the gurney holding Della's hand, keeping up with the orderly's swift and sure pace. They entered the elevator, which stopped at the third floor, and when the doors opened and Perry stepped out into the hallway, his breath caught in his throat as the sign on the wall glared at him: C.C.U. – Critical Care Unit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe's voice cut through the fear that gripped Perry. "Her room is right down the hall, Mr. Mason." Joe pushed the gurney past the nurse's station another fifty feet or so and then stopped. "Here we are, room three-ten." As Joe guided the gurney into the room, yet another nurse walked up to Perry.

"Hello Mr. Mason. I'm Louse Miller. I'll be Mrs. Mason's night nurse. Patti called from downstairs, and Dr. Spencer will be up shortly to check on her again. I'm going to help Joe get her settled in the bed and attach her monitor. Would you mind waiting out here for a few minutes until we're through? You can finish the admitting paperwork."

Perry glanced down has his left hand, which still held the clipboard Megan had handed him. All he had written was 'Della'. He hoped his voice sounded grateful. "Thank you, Louise. Please let me know as soon as I can go in. I promised I wouldn't leave her."

"I will, Mr. Mason. There are chairs around the corner by the nurse's station. Can you find your way back?"

Perry nodded dumbly and after a longing and helpless look toward the door of room three-ten, he made his way back to the nurse's station and lowered himself heavily onto another small, uncomfortable chair. He stared at the admitting forms and still couldn't focus. He suddenly realized that the coffee Megan had promised to bring him had never materialized. And he really could have used it. He laid the clipboard across his knees, propped his elbows on it and buried his head in his hands.

It seemed like an eternity before Joe emerged from Della's room and said goodbye to him in passing, but in reality it had only been about ten minutes. Perry leapt to his feet, tossed the clipboard on the nurse's station counter, and strode toward room three-ten, discovering Louise in the doorway beckoning him to enter. As he stepped into the room he was taken aback. It was larger than most hospital rooms he was familiar with, light and airy, painted a pale yellow and with a window overlooking a courtyard. There was a small closet and a chest of drawers, and what looked to be a comfortable sitting chair. For a second Perry almost forgot where he was…almost. Then his eyes went to Della, his precious girl, lying on a rubber mat that he assumed to be the ice blanket, in a bed surrounded by intimidating medical equipment that flashed and beeped, the arm containing the IV antibiotic taped to a board. But it was the oxygen tent that disturbed him the most, the constant hiss emitted by the large tank a stark reminder of her dire condition.

Seeing her like this was too much for him. He couldn't bear it. The physical pain was like a stab to the heart. His face paled and he felt his whole body tremble, from the inside out, exactly as Della had described her chills. His eyes blurred with tears and for a second he thought he might be sick. He leaned against the door frame and took several deep breaths to gather himself. He had to be strong for her, had to hold himself together to get them both through this nightmare.

Louise, who was still tending to Della, looked up for a split second and saw his face change color. She was by his side instantly, holding his arm and leading him to the chair. She firmly pushed him down into it. "Sit down, Mr. Mason. You look exhausted. It won't do for Mrs. Mason to wake up and find you sick. When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink? You need to take care of yourself for her."

Perry managed a fleeting smile. "We actually had a good dinner. But I sure could use some coffee. Megan said she would bring me a cup but…"

Louise frowned slightly. "I believe another serious case came in right after you brought Mrs. Mason in. I'll see about getting that coffee for you. And I'll see to it that you are in decent shape for when your wife wakes up."

Perry gazed at the woman standing before him with slightly amused eyes, and despite everything almost smiled. She sounded like Della when they were working late on a tough case and she would admonish him in the way only she could. She got him to do things he wouldn't do for anyone else – he rested, he ate better, he got some exercise. He knew she nagged at him because she loved him, so the least he could do was listen to her. And now he felt he should listen to Louise because he needed someone to lean on. Because he was scared.

Yes, this big, larger than life man who had such a commanding presence and who seemed unstoppable, indomitable, was scared to death…and wracked with guilt because he hadn't insisted firmly enough that the love of his life see their doctor before they left for Carmel.

His eyes shifted again to Della and in a husky whisper said almost to himself, "She's so pale and still. She's usually so animated. Her eyes sparkle and…she knows I'm here, right? Can I touch her? I need to touch her. Can I hold her hand?"

Louise bent down and unzipped the oxygen tent a bit, took his hand, and placed it on the bed. "If you want, just slip your hand under here and you can hold her hand. Just be careful of the IV. You can talk to her, Mr. Mason. I guarantee she knows you're here. She's pretty well settled and her breathing is already a bit better, so I'll leave you alone. If you need me I'll be at the nurse's station, or just press the call button – see it there?. And I'll find that coffee for you."

"Thank you, Louise." He turned back to Della and did as Louise had instructed. Careful not to jostle any of the tubes, he slipped his hand into the tent and took Della's hand in his. He instantly felt calmer, but her appearance still disturbed him. _God, she looks so small and helpless lying there, so fragile and young. She's really not much more than a girl, so much younger than me…_

"Della, I'm right here, darling. I told you I wouldn't leave you. You're going to get well, precious girl. Don't be scared, I'm right here. You rest and I'll be right here when you wake up."

As Perry sat holding her hand, a wave of fatigue overtook him and he closed his eyes. His head nodded forward and he snapped it back, determined not to sleep until he knew for certain she was out of danger. Then he felt it, felt her hand move in his and she became agitated, her head moving from side to side, her mouth moving with silent words. He leaned forward, applying more pressure to her hand. "Shhhhh, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. Settle down."

"Have to finish…" Her voice was raspy and deep. "Have to finish the notes. Can't go until I'm finished…Perry? Perry…please don't leave…everyone leaves me."

"Shhh, it's all right, sweet girl, I'm here. I'm holding your hand, honey. I know you're sleepy, but can you wake up for a minute? I need to see those beautiful eyes."

Dr. Spencer stood in the doorway, listening to her patient speak. Her voice was deep and cracking, but it was a good sign that she was talking. She moved swiftly to Della's side, next to Perry. "Mrs. Mason! Mrs. Mason, can you hear me? I'm Dr. Spencer. Can you open your eyes for me? Come on now, open those eyes. Your husband is here and he wants you to open your eyes, too."

Perry couldn't let it go on any further. Della wouldn't want it to. He had to tell the doctor the truth. He held up his hand. "Dr. Spencer, there's something you need to know. She won't respond to 'Mrs. Mason' because…because she's not my wife. I know I should have put down her last name on the form, but I just couldn't, so I left it blank and simply let everyone continue to assume we were married. I'm sorry. Believe me, I'm not in the habit of deceiving people. Her real name is Street. Della Street."

The doctor's eyes widened in shocked disbelief as she looked at Perry. Her hand flew to her mouth and for a moment she was at a complete loss for words. Then she found her voice, but her composure wasn't quite collected, so it was shaky when she spoke. "Street? _**Della **_Street?" She looked down at the patient in the bed incredulously, and tears sprang to her eyes. "It's Della? My God, it's Della!"

Before Perry could say anything, Della opened her eyes and looked at the woman standing next to Perry. Even in her semi-conscious state and her eyes still glazed with fever she was able to get out two audible words. "Hi Kathy." She turned her head slightly and gave a hint of a smile to Perry. "You didn't leave," she whispered. Then her eyes closed.

Perry turned to the doctor, his own disbelief evident on his face as he noticed for the first time the name on her hospital identification badge: Dr. Kathleen M. Spencer. "You're Kathy…Della's Kathy? Kathy Martin?"

The doctor leaned against the bed for support. "How – how do you know my maiden name?"

For the first time since entering the hospital, Perry Mason gave a genuine smile. "I know all about you, Kathy Martin. And when you tell me Della's out of danger, we're going to have a long chat about what you and your family meant to her, and how she wound up in Carmel in your emergency room."


	11. Chapter 11

**Part 3.2 – Last Interview**

_He sat at his desk, dejectedly doodling in the margin of the yellow legal pad. Two more interviews already this morning and neither one was even close to being a suitable candidate to replace Carol. Maybe if he gave Carol a substantial raise and promised not to keep her at the office until all hours of the night preparing writs and organizing his thoughts George would be agreeable to letting her work after the wedding…at least until they started a family. Was that too much to ask? She owed him that much, didn't she? No other attorney would have hired her, and he paid her more than any of those attorneys who wouldn't have hired her would have paid. He had given her the chance of a lifetime, and now she was abandoning him._

_He knew his thoughts were out of line and quite possibly bordering on the ridiculous. Carol deserved happiness, and happiness was George, even though the man seemed to be stodgy and behind the times to his mind. Plenty of married women worked until babies started to arrive, and plenty more worked even when they had several babies. Why couldn't Carol? He needed a secretary, a **good** secretary, one who wasn't just accomplished at secretarial tasks, but one who could keep him in line, could organize him, and could stand up to him the way Carol did._

_He glanced at his watch and sighed. In five minutes, Carol would escort yet another unsuitable applicant through the door, and over the course of a short interview they would attempt to explain what the job entailed without scaring the poor dear. This one was as woefully inexperienced as Carol had been, and younger. She would probably sit before him in terrified silence, thin lips pressed together, pale eyes shifting around the room looking for an escape route when introduced to his overbearing personage. He knew he could be intimidating, but when Carol told him to tone it down a bit, he refused. The woman he hired had to be comfortable with or at the very least tolerate his many moods, and his most prevalent mood lately was an annoyed brusqueness._

_He read the name on the application: Della Street. Short and sweet, Della Street. He could almost see her: on the plump side, south of five feet tall, mousy hair pulled back in a serious bun, thick-soled shoes worn to augment her height. He didn't know why he had such a picture of her, of this Della Street. Maybe it was her quaint, old-fashioned name. He had interviewed a stream of women named Peggy, Nancy, Patsy, Janet and even one Debbie, so he was curious about meeting a Della. _

_There was a knock on the door that connected his office to his secretary's, and Carol Simmons poked her head in. She was smiling broadly. "Ready for the next interview?"_

"_You derive far too much enjoyment from these torturous exercises in futility," he complained._

_Carol pushed open the door and crossed to his desk. She continued to grin broadly as she stood in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back. "I think you might like this one," she told him. "I know I do."_

_He indicated the one-page application in front of him. "She has no experience as a legal secretary. I might like her well enough, but I don't have time to break in another novice. Getting you up to speed was more work than preparing for three trials simultaneously. I'm not sure I want to go through an ordeal like that again." He regarded his secretary with pained but twinkling eyes._

"_You know," she observed critically, "if you could maintain this mood during interviews, I could have had a girl hired and thoroughly trained by now. We've been interviewing for almost four months, Perry. You have to make a decision. I'm getting married in three weeks, and I will not come back to work after the honeymoon. I'm gone whether you hire my replacement or not."_

"_There is no replacing you, Carol. You're the best secretary I've ever had." _

"_Flattery will get you exactly nowhere. I'm the only secretary you've ever had. This girl can type like a house afire and her shorthand is neat and accurate. I've already tested her. And she's attractive. **Very** attractive."_

"_That doesn't matter to me," he said testily. "I need someone to take the bull by the horns and hit the ground running. I need someone I can trust, someone who won't burst into tears the first time I raise my voice, someone who can anticipate my next move, someone who knows their way around."_

"_You've interviewed a lot of qualified legal secretaries who know their way around and on paper sounded perfect, but you haven't liked any of them. On paper this girl is lacking in experience, but I think you'll like her. I certainly like her. She comes very highly recommended by someone's who's opinion I value."_

_He heaved a big sigh. "All right, bring her in. If nothing else, I'll be prompt with this interview."_

_Carol turned and disappeared through the door to her office. He took a moment to adjust his tie and smooth his hands through his hair. If indeed this Della Street was as attractive as Carol claimed, the least he could do was make sure he was presentable, and maybe he could lighten up a bit. The nine o'clock interviewee had left in great haste, visibly shaken by his demeanor. She hadn't been suitable, not by a long shot, but he did feel a bit of remorse at frightening the girl. _

_The connecting door opened, and Carol ushered in his ten o'clock interview._

_And he nearly passed out._

"_Miss Street," Carol announced, "Mr. Mason. Mr. Mason, this is Miss Della Street."_

_The most beautiful woman he had ever seen took several assured steps toward him, extended her hand, and gave him the dazzling smile that had overtaken his dreams for the past year. He saw that her eyes weren't a true green, but an incredible sparkling hazel somewhere between green and gold, accented by perfectly arched brows. He broke into a wide grin that faded as he realized her eyes held no recognition at all._

"_Mr. Mason," her low, melodic voice greeted him. "I'm very pleased to meet you."_

_He took her hand, and for the first time in a year he was aware of his heart beating. "Miss Street." His voice sounded unfamiliar in his ears. "Please sit down." It was her, he was sure of it. How could she not remember? He smelled the same perfume, heard the same voice, felt the same charge in the air surrounding her presence._

_She seated herself with an easy grace in the straight-backed chair Carol had insisted be used for interviews, elegant ankles crossed and held slightly to the side. He noted slender calves and small feet in alluringly feminine heels – or were they only alluring because they contained her dainty feet? He shook his head. The shock of seeing her again and the bigger shock of her apparent ignorance as to his identity couldn't be allowed to take over the task at hand. Their entire conversation on the terrace replayed itself at high speed in his mind, and he plunged into the interview without preamble._

"_On your application you claim to type one hundred and sixteen words per minute. Not one hundred and seventeen? Or one hundred and fourteen?" Good Lord where had that come from? Carol always began the interview process, handling the stenographic aspects of the job while he gauged the applicant's answers, sizing each candidate up as to how they comported themselves._

_Carol shot him a befuddled look, which he expected when he'd broken with their routine._

_Miss Street, however, did the unexpected. She laughed, that low hearty laugh he would never forget. "In repeated timings, Mr. Mason, my score has consistently been one hundred and sixteen **accurate** words per minute. Not one hundred and seventeen and certainly not one hundred and fourteen." _

_Her eyes continued to sparkle. He was impressed. She hadn't batted an eyelash, hadn't hesitated for a moment. The laugh had been genuine. All in all it had been a darn near perfect reply to his question in his estimation. _

"_What about your shorthand? This job requires a great deal of dictation, and I verbalize my thoughts quickly."_

_Carol let out a derisive snort._

"_My speed is one hundred and thirty words per minute. The method I use is Gregg, which I find is quicker and more aesthetically pleasing than Pittman. Would you like to know what particular brand of steno pad I prefer to use?"_

_Carol groaned._

_Della Street swung her eyes to where Carol sat next to him. "Do you think I'm making light of this interview, Miss Simmons? I got the distinct impression Mr. Mason was trying to rattle me, and from your expression I'm also getting the impression that this interview is being conducted very differently from previous interviews. Am I correct?"_

_He regarded Miss Street with keen interest for several seconds, the words 'distinct impression' catching his ear. She certainly was perceptive. "I seem to have tapped into Miss Street's inner annoyance, Miss Simmons," he drawled. "Perhaps we should carry on with this interview according to our set procedure."_

_Della Street narrowed her eyes at him, her lovely, full lips slightly pursed. Ah, her memory had been stirred. He could see suspicious scrutiny in those eyes._

_Carol Simmons threw him a perturbed look. "I somehow lost control of this interview the instant we walked into the office. You are more than welcome to continue, Mr. Mason. I wouldn't know how to recover any dignity on behalf of the practice at this point."_

_Della Street smiled at the secretary. "You have been most gracious, Miss Simmons. Any dignity lost in the past few minutes has not been due to anything you have said or done."_

_He nearly laughed out loud. She was every bit as delightful as he remembered. And feisty! She read him well and stood up to him. Hadn't he told Carol those attributes were high on his list? "That is an obviously backhanded insult on my person, Miss Street. I apologize if this interview isn't everything you were expecting, but I don't particularly care for conventionality."_

"_Then let's be unconventional. Ask any question you think relevant to my qualifications for this position, and I'll gladly answer. But I can't guarantee that my answers will be conventional or in the least bit polite."_

_Now he did laugh. "All right Miss Street, I accept the gauntlet as thrown. What interests you about working in a profession that ranks just below musician in public opinion?" She had to remember. She just had to remember. He couldn't stand it if she didn't remember._

_Her eyes widened in immediate, startled recognition. "You – you're the…" she cleared her throat, and continued to stare at him. Then she blinked, and smiled. "I've not given it much thought," she admitted, her smile expanding. "I'm here as a favor to someone I think quite highly of. She described the job as challenging, which piqued my interest. I have no experience being a legal secretary, but I'm a quick study, and I work hard. I don't need this job, Mr. Mason. I have a job. A good job. But it doesn't challenge me, and doesn't take advantage of other skills I have."_

_They smiled at each other for a count of thirty. Carol looked back and forth between the two of them, curiosity written plainly on her face._

"_If I were to hire you, Miss Street, what else would you bring to the table?" His heart thudded loudly in his chest. She remembered! And she was smiling. His smile was almost silly, and he could sense Carol was confused by his behavior._

_She leaned forward slightly, her eyes dancing. "With all due respect to Miss Simmons, I would turn your practice upside down, Mr. Mason. I would tear it apart and put it back together again. Within two weeks I would know everything there is to know about running this office, and within a month I would be proficient enough with legalese and procedures that you wouldn't know that Miss Simmons was gone. I'm loyal to a fault, I work tirelessly, and I'm never sick." _

_Out of the corner of his eye he could see Carol's surprised face break into a grin. _

"_And your faults? Aside from misguided loyalty." He regarded her with extreme amusement._

"_I'm my own worst critic," she replied quickly. "I have in the past overthought and overdone things. I meet all my deadlines, but only just." Her eyes sparkled even more, if that was possible. "I'm working on it."_

_He exchanged glances with a delighted Carol and almost imperceptibly nodded his head. Carol relaxed against the seat back with a soft expelled breath. He made a big show of gathering papers into a pile and pretending to let Miss Street's words register with him. He got to his feet, abruptly signaling the end of the interview._

_Miss Della Street blinked her big beautiful eyes in surprise and arose as gracefully as she had seated herself. She offered her hand and he took it almost eagerly._

"_Miss Street, I think I've heard all I need to," he said a bit more stiffly than he intended and he held her hand a bit longer than he should have. "We'll be in touch."_

_The sparkle in her eyes dimmed with disappointment. "Oh. All right, Mr. Mason. Thank you for your time and consideration." She glanced at Carol briefly and turned to go._

"_Miss Street, one more thing."_

_She turned back, and the expression on her face tore at his heart. "Yes, Mr. Mason." Her voice was stiff now._

"_Miss Street, what are your feelings about jazz?"_

_Her smile was blindingly bright. "I generally like jazz," she said with cheeky amusement. "Except for free form jazz. I find it to be **too jazzy **for my tastes."_

_Carol scrambled to her feet, as if suddenly remembering her role as secretary. "I'll show you out, Miss Street."_

_He sat down in his chair and watched the two women walk out of his office, the grin on his face threatening to swallow his entire head. He had found her again. Or she had found him. It didn't matter. He knew her name, where she lived, where she worked. And where she was going to be working._

_Carol tapped on the door and literally bounced into the room. "If you don't hire her, I will kill you, Perry Mason."_

_He merely grinned at her._

"_She's everything you've been looking for. I'm going to cancel all scheduled interviews and type out an offer for her. Do you want to call her or would you rather I call her?"_

_He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. Carol didn't know how right her words were. Della Street was indeed everything he had been looking for. "I'll call her," he said wishing that Carol could type one hundred and sixteen words per minute so the call could be made that much quicker. _

"Mr. Mason, wake up."

The East coast accent of Dr. Kathy Spencer gently prodded him from his reverie. He lifted his head from the pillow of his arms, which were hugging Della's right ankle.

"Mr. Mason," she said again, softer. "We need to ask you to leave. Dottie and Ruth are going to give Della a bath and attend to the ice blanket. Come on, upsy-daisy."

Perry had to smile at the usage of 'upsy-daisy' by the doctor. He would sneak that one into a conversation with Della and see what her response would be. Dr. Spencer took his arm and helped him to his feet.

"I can't leave," he protested. Della had been on the third floor in the C.C.U. for nearly forty hours, and he hadn't slept, aside from snatches of slumber that ended in his head snapping back to clear the unwanted urge. He didn't want to be asleep when she woke up. Because she was going to wake up. Very soon. She had to. "I promised I wouldn't leave."

Della's childhood friend regarded him critically. Unshaven, his complexion grey with fatigue and worry, brilliant eyes clouded by unspoken fear, he was still one of the most strikingly handsome men she had ever met. Della had excellent taste, if his true character was what he had presented since arriving with her in his arms. He asked searching questions about her condition, about the course of her treatment, about what would be required for her convalescence when she was released from the hospital. He touched her with loving tenderness, and spoke to her with a gentleness that had all the nurses swooning.

"I know all about your promise, Mr. Mason. But I think Della would appreciate a little privacy for what Dottie and Ruth are going to do. Come with me. We won't be far away."

He didn't move as Dr. Spencer pulled on his arm, knowing that his promise to not leave Della was now at odds with what was necessary for her comfort and treatment. "If you insist on making me leave, I have to tell her where I'll be," he insisted. "I don't want her to wake up and wonder where I am."

Kathy Spencer gave him a tolerant look. "All right, tell her quickly so the nurses can get on with their job."

Perry swiftly turned and bent close to the oxygen tent that barred him from touching more of Della than her legs. "Della, baby," he began softly, "Kathy is forcing me to go away for a few minutes so the nurses can make you more beautiful, as if that's even possible. I won't be gone long sweetheart, and if you wake up, I'll come running." He glanced pointedly at Dottie and Ruth, who had entered the room behind Dr. Spencer. They both nodded in silent agreement, mesmerized by his gentleness with the sick woman lying unconscious on the bed. He unzipped the tent just enough for his hand to fit through and stroked the back of Della's hand with one finger. "I love you, Della," he whispered. "Please wake up soon."

Ruth skirted the foot of the bed and came to stand behind Perry. As he withdrew his hand from the oxygen tent she placed her hand on his arm. "We'll take very good care of her, Mr. Mason. Please go relax for a few minutes. I promise to come get you immediately if she wakes up."

He looked down at the young nurse's aid. "You'd better," he said tiredly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part 3.3 – Kathy Talks**

Kathy Spencer motioned to him to follow her from the room. "Well I like that," she huffed good-naturedly. "Blaming me for taking you away from her."

Perry gave a small laugh. "I've learned to have very good reasons for not carrying through on promises. Having her long-lost friend as a scapegoat is an opportunity I had to take advantage of. She won't get mad at you."

Kathy tucked her hand in his elbow and chuckled softly. "Still has a bit of temper, hmm?"

"It takes a lot for her to get angry, but when she does it's usually for very good reasons. But it's an infuriatingly calm, reasonable anger that brings me to my knees."

"I remember it well, Mr. Mason." The doctor guided him to a closed door behind the nurse's station. He opened it and stepped aside for her to enter. "A raised eyebrow from her would make our brothers cower in fear."

Inside the lounge Kathy indicated a comfortable chair in the corner. While he crossed the room and sank into it, she poured a cup of coffee and joined him. He accepted the cup with a fleeting smile of thanks and without bothering with cream and sugar, took a sip. It was hot and strong and precisely what he needed. The original cup of coffee promised him by Megan and re-promised by Louise forty hours ago had never materialized, so this was the first liquid he had consumed since dinner almost two days ago.

Kathy Spencer let him sip on the coffee in silence until he was halfway through before speaking. "Tell me how you know all about me and how Della came to be in my emergency room, Mr. Mason."

He leaned back in the chair and regarded her with bloodshot eyes and a slight smile. "Not until you stop calling me Mr. Mason."

"Only if you stop calling me Dr. Spencer," she countered. "All right, Perry, while we have this lounge to ourselves, tell me your story."

So an exhausted and scared Perry Mason began to talk. He told Kathy everything he knew about her and her family: the beautiful house at the Jersey shore; the close relationship she and Della had shared; the time they spent on the boardwalk and on those fantastic amusement piers; and all the talks between them and the boys on the upstairs porch, Della's favorite place of all. He told her what those summers had meant to Della, how the memory of them made her homesick sometimes and how it pained him to see her upset. He told her about accidentally finding an almost exact duplicate of her childhood home in Carmel, of buying it and having it restored as a surprise for Della's birthday. He told her of how hard Della worked, how she kept up with every step he took; how she worried for their clients and for him, how she kept him focused and championed him; how this last case and trial had seemed to affect her physically more than previous cases, so he had decided to bring her to the house a few months earlier than originally planned. He spoke of her utter and complete joy at discovering not only that the house was hers, but at how Martin had miraculously transformed the inside to resemble the Martin home she had loved so much. He admitted he'd known Della was getting sick, that he should have insisted more strenuously that she see their doctor before leaving L.A., but that he had bowed to her admirable, frustrating, infuriating stubbornness as he usually did in their relationship. He talked about the symptoms of her sickness, of how she would be fine, then gasping for breath, but that she always had a logical or humorous excuse for everything. Until he woke up and she was convulsing and she couldn't explain it away with a joke, and he didn't know what to do.

Kathy Spencer watched this big man, who loved her childhood friend sincerely and intensely, pour out his heart, rubbing one long-fingered hand over the other compulsively. She surmised the activity was a habit when he was concerned about something, and he was definitely concerned about Della. When he stopped talking, she leaned over and covered his hand with hers. Her eyes were moist.

"Perry, you couldn't have known she would get this sick. Pneumonia is a sneaky devil. It's an insidious, devastating, frightening illness. You did just about everything right by taking her away from the stress of her job and keeping her quiet when she was first getting sick. Then you recognized that her temperature had spiked and did what you could to lower it. You saved her life, Perry. There is nothing to blame yourself for."

He smiled ruefully at the doctor's belief that he had kept Della quiet. What would she say if he told her what he had allowed Della to do less than two hours before her convulsion?

Kathy picked up his coffee cup from the floor where he had set it after draining the last drop, stood and moved to the counter where a coffee urn sat. She refilled the cup and returned to her chair. He stared into the dark, steaming brew and wished he had a cigarette. But he didn't have any idea where his case might be. The case Della had given him, engraved with his initials and the word he thought of when he thought of her. _Always_.

"I should get back to Della," he said.

Kathy shook her head. "Dottie and Ruth need at least twenty minutes to take care of her properly. If she wakes up I can guarantee one of them will come get you. You have every nurse on this floor wrapped around your finger, Perry. All they talk about is how committed you are to Della."

His tired, red eyes looked at her with surprise. "I love her," he said, baldly honest. "We aren't married…but I couldn't be more committed to her if we were."

Kathy leaned forward and covered his hand with hers. "I know you are." She squeezed his hand then sat back again. "Perry, did Della tell you why we lost touch?"

Perry blew on the hot coffee and shook his head. "She rhapsodized about the house and the boardwalk, the rolling chairs and how you two spent all your time eating and window shopping. She said her family stopped visiting when her father became ill. I surmised her father's sickness and death caused the estrangement between your families."

"Our families aren't estranged, Perry," Kathy told him quietly. "Only Della is estranged from us. Her brothers are still in contact with me and my brother, and her mother talks to my mother at least once a week."

Perry sat in surprised silence for several seconds. "Why? Why would she talk about what you and your family meant to her if she caused the estrangement?"

Kathy's eyes pooled with tears once again. "Della didn't cause the estrangement. She merely maintains it. I imagine it makes things easier for her. Since this comes as a surprise to you, I'll assume she hasn't told you anything about her relationship with my oldest brother?"

"No, she hasn't. She just said that all of you kids were about the same age and mostly got along."

"That's true, as far as it goes. My brothers Gregg and Eric treated her like they treated me, and her brothers Jamie and Robbie treated me like they treated her – as their little sisters. Then the year Della and I turned seventeen, the last summer the Streets came to stay with us, something happened between Gregg and Della. Their relationship changed and they became very close, very serious. Della was just entering her senior year in high school and Gregg was headed into his junior year in college. They spent a lot of time alone on the upstairs porch talking, and one day Della admitted to me that they were in love."

Perry almost went slack-jawed in shock. Della had mentioned the names of men in her past over the years. He was certain 'Gregg' was not among those names.

"They made plans for their future on that porch, how they were going to get married after Della finished college, where they would live, about having a family – all the things young couples in love talk about. Even though Della was young, she was mature and responsible and knew exactly what she wanted. Both our families were ecstatic and at the end of the summer, before they went home, plans were made for us to spend Christmas with the Streets."

Kathy paused and wiped her eyes with shaking fingers. Perry patted his pockets in a fruitless attempt to locate a handkerchief to hide his shock at what she was telling him, but she waved off his efforts. He felt a traitorous stab of disappointment at Della for not telling him anything about Gregg. "I take it those plans fell through?"

Kathy sniffed. "Yes. We didn't spend Christmas with them. In early November Aunt Alice called and talked to my mother for a long time. Doctors had just given Uncle Jim only a year to live and you can imagine how devastated we all were. My parents talked it over with the Streets, and they decided it was better if we didn't go. Della and I were heartbroken. The adults had decided to give the Streets time to be with only one another. Gregg understood the decision, but he was beside himself with worry about Della, lonely for her, and she was pining madly for him. He couldn't afford to go alone, and she didn't think she could be so selfish to give up time with her father to be with Gregg. After Christmas he called her and vowed that no matter what he would be there for her graduation. My graduation was a week before hers and he promised to bring me along with him. Gregg worked two part-time jobs while taking a full load of classes and sold his car so he could keep that promise to her. Everything was better for a while because the three of us had her graduation to look forward to, even though Uncle Jim was getting sicker and sicker. Then in April, Gregg…Gregg was supposed to come home for spring break, but he changed his plans at the last minute because he couldn't wait until June to see Della. He decided to fly out to be with her for a few days, and then come home to see us…"

Kathy paused again and now tears were freely streaming down her face. Perry spied a box of tissues on the counter and got up to retrieve them. He handed them to her and laid his hand on her shoulder in sympathy. What she was struggling to tell him was clearly devastating to her, and had clearly devastated Della as well. He decided to save Kathy the pain of telling him what he already knew positively.

"Kathy, Gregg never made it to see Della, did he? And he never came home, either."

Kathy shook her head, and a sob escaped her lips. She pressed a handful of tissues to her face and took a deep breath. "No, he didn't. There was a…the plane…it crashed. Gregg…died."

"I'm so sorry, Kathy. So very, very sorry."

He patted her shoulder as she mopped at her face with sodden tissues. "Thank you. I've always told my parents that time heals, and it does, but you never forget. There was so much of Gregg in our house and in the town, so many memories, and my parents couldn't handle it. They sold the house within weeks of his death and moved us clear across the country for a fresh start."

He noticed she said nothing about Della, how Della had handled Gregg's death. "And Della? What happened between you and Della that caused you to lose touch?"

She blew her nose and took a deep, steadying breath. "After Gregg…after it happened, I called her and tried to talk to her, to tell her we were moving, but she wouldn't talk to me. Her mother said Della blamed herself. She felt that if she hadn't wanted to see Gregg so badly, he wouldn't have changed his plans and he wouldn't have…died. She crawled into herself in grief and wouldn't talk to anyone, especially me. A month after her graduation Jamie called to tell us Uncle Jim had died. Eric and I have kept touch with Jamie and Robbie – Christmas cards and birthday phone calls mostly – and our mothers have remained as close as you can over the telephone and with letters, but we vowed not to let Della know. She had to deal with her grief in her own way. If shutting us out of her life was what would heal her, then we had to respect that. After a while I stopped asking about her because…because as she moved on in life it made me angry that Gregg wasn't around to see her, to love her, to be _**alive**_. I missed him so much…and I missed Della. She was my best friend. I lost so much when Gregg died. We all lost so much."

A fresh salvo of tears erupted as Perry's hand on her shoulder tightened and he let her cry, hoping that no nurses would come upon Dr. Spencer in such a vulnerable condition. Abruptly she pushed his hand away and pulled another wad of tissues from the box to sop up the tears.

"Look at me, the tough doctor, weeping uncontrollably. Not very professional on my part."

Perry moved to stand at the window with his back to her. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about your loss. Not only for your brother, but for losing touch with Della as well. She's quite a remarkable young woman."

Kathy again blew her nose. "She always was. I was forever cooling my heels in her shadow."

"I can hardly believe that, Kathy. You are rather remarkable yourself. Not many women would follow the path you've taken."

"That's a very nice thing to say, Perry. Thank you."

He smiled at his haggard reflection in the window. "Only Della has ever thought I was nice. I can see how much alike you two are if you're bringing out the nice in me."

"She's always brought out the best in people. I'm glad she's found love again. I'll say it again: she's very lucky. And don't defer on that statement, Mr. Mason. Please accept it for what it's worth. She needs everything you can give her – strength, determination, encouragement. You have to help her fight. I sense that you are accustomed to fighting for what is important to you."

He turned to face her. "While this mutual admiration society is in session, let me say that your husband is a very lucky man."

Kathy stood and moved to stand in front of him. "I normally thrive on compliments, but right now everything is about Della. We're going to concentrate on her, and she's going to get well, Perry. I promise you I'm going to do everything that's humanly possible to make her better in record time. She still means a lot to me. I never forgot her and now, by some miracle or divine intervention, we've been given the chance to renew our friendship. You may think me crazy, because doctors are supposed to be scientific and pragmatic, not emotional and given to fantasy or mysticism, but I really think this was meant to be."

Perry placed his hands on her shoulders and looked steadily into her eyes. "I know you'll do everything you can to help her, Kathy. She's in the best hands possible, and I'm grateful. And as for thinking you're crazy, someday I'll tell you a story about miracles."

She impulsively hugged him. "I'll hold you to that, Perry." She stepped back and smiled tremulously. "I'm going back to check on Della. Dottie and Ruth should be just about finished. Please stay here while I get her vitals and – "

He shook his head emphatically, cutting off her words. "No, I've been gone too long as it is. She can sense when I'm there, I know it. Even when she was convulsing she was listening to me. She looked right at me and…" his voice became husky, filled with emotion he could no longer hide. "She looked at me with such fear and pain and…trust. She trusts me, and I can't let her down."

Kathy took his arm. "Come on, Trusty. Let's go find out how much she's improved."


	13. Chapter 13

**Part 3.4 – Della Dreams**

Dottie and Ruth had very efficiently bathed Della, refreshed the ice blanket, and changed the bed linen. Della was once contained within the oxygen tent, her hair damp and arranged in soft waves around her serene face. To Perry she looked like an angel, her perfect complexion translucent and otherworldly. Normally he rather enjoyed watching her sleep, but the spasmodic rise and fall of her chest caused him an agony he never wanted to experience again.

He stood at the foot of her bed as Kathy efficiently checked Della's vital signs, then listened to her lungs for a long time, moving the stethoscope over her rash-covered chest. When the doctor was finished, she stepped back so that Dottie could re-tuck the plastic oxygen tent, securing the ends beneath the mattress of the hospital bed.

"Her temperature has come down a bit but is still high," Kathy began. Perry thought she sounded disappointed. "Refreshing the ice blanket should help. The inflammation in her lungs is severe, and her breathing remains shallow. I'd like to see her take deeper breaths sooner rather than later."

Perry didn't like what Kathy was saying. He had irrationally hoped she would tell him Della was completely cured and he could take her home within twenty-four hours. Tears welled in his eyes and he lowered them to stare at Della's feet.

Kathy came to stand next to him. "She's right where she should be in her treatment," she told him softly. "The antibiotic is beginning to work and the ice blanket is keeping her cool. I expect a dramatic drop in her temperature in the next twenty-four hours. I was going to sedate her to keep her more comfortable, but I think I'll hold off on that for a few more hours to see if she naturally soothes herself. I'm going to monitor her lungs closely and if she doesn't begin to take deeper breaths, I'll re-evaluate the sedation."

Perry couldn't look at the doctor. His inherent impatience was not holding him in good stead through this. He wanted Della better, wanted her better fast, wanted her better faster than what Kathy was telling him was possible.

"Dottie and Ruth will check on her every twenty minutes or so, then Cynthia will take over at shift change. She's had a lot of experience with pneumonia and I specifically requested her as Della's nurse. I have rounds to make, but I'll be back before my shift ends. We'll leave you alone with her now. Remember what I told you. Talk to her. She can hear you." She squeezed his arm and motioned for the nurses to follow her from the room.

Perry liked Kathy's caring manner, how she touched him to reinforce her encouraging, comforting words. He had always been a large gesture person, his affection limited to exploration of his desire. Della changed that about him. He wanted to touch her all the time, wanted her to touch him all the time, affectionate contact that reassured the other about their place in life and their feelings for one another.

Kathy stopped in the doorway and looked back at him. "Perry, you need to eat and get some rest. And shouldn't you call her family? The more support she – and you – have, the faster she'll get better."

"Yes ma'am." He had to smile. Kathy was revealing herself to be more and more like Della every minute. "Her Aunt Mae lives in California. I'll call her in a while. Right now I have a few things to tell Della."

Kathy ushered the two nurses from the room and silently closed the door behind her.

Perry moved to the chair beside the bed, unzipped the oxygen tent and gently laid his hand on Della's. "All right, precious girl, you heard Kathy. You're doing fine, and she's going to get you well. She promised. She also told me that I had to take care of you, and that you have to fight, angel. You have to be strong and fight this with everything you've got. I know it's hard, but if anyone can do it, you can. This is the fight of your life – the fight of _**our**_ life – and we're going to win. There's simply no other option. We have too much to do…we have a lot of years ahead of us, darling. I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone and I'm not going to lose you."

Perry kept his left hand inside the tent, while his right hand moved to her leg and slowly petted it.

"I know you can hear me, Della. I'm going to be right here when you wake up. I'll be so happy then, my darling. All I want is to see your beautiful eyes and know that you feel better. Then I'll take you home to our house and pamper you and spoil you until you're strong enough to go back to L.A. and face whatever adventure life has in store for us."

He laid his head down on his outstretched arm and gazed at her still form, at her lovely face. Was she breathing more deeply? He thought maybe she was. He hoped she was.

His eyes slowly closed and he sighed in exhaustion. Kathy was right. He should call Mae. Then she could call her sister and nephews. And he should call Paul and…before he could complete the list of people who needed to know about Della, sleep interrupted.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_The soft summer breeze ruffled through her long chestnut curls as she sat cross-legged on the chintz covered chaise. She was alone, enjoying the momentary peace and solitude of the lazy afternoon. The adults were gone for the day, having driven from the Martin's Ventnor home to visit friends in Margate, the next small neighboring town. The boys were off playing basketball at the community center and Kathy was at the Atlantic City hospital, working as a candy-striper as she did every Wednesday. She had, of course, been included in any and all of the divergent plans and activities, but had begged off to take advantage of the time alone. _

_She thought of Kathy, who had announced her intention to become a doctor last summer. Now it was almost all she ever talked about. She decided she loved people and being around them, and especially loved helping them. People loved Kathy in return, much more than she was aware of. She had always been the one neighborhood kids ran to when they fell off their bikes, or slipped and skinned their knees while roller skating, or got a splinter from the boardwalk. She knew just what to do and was so gentle and loving that before they knew it, their 'injuries' would be tended to and they would be off and running once again, their laughter Kathy's payment for services rendered. She knew Kathy would be a wonderful doctor, and knew anyone would be lucky to eventually be her patient._

_She herself was leaning toward a degree in English. Her father was a successful advertising man and she loved visiting him at his office downtown. He would let her type and file, answer the phone, and proof-read copy. His business associates remarked how responsible and efficient she was, even at her young age. She thrived on organization and contact with people, and the words her father wrote thrilled her._

_And while she loved the time she spent at her father's office, she loved her father…her daddy…even more. She had an extremely close relationship with her mother, and her big brothers were simply the best, but it was her daddy she adored, and she glowed when he called her his 'princess'. Tall, dark haired, and quite good-looking, he was everything she thought a husband and father should be – the quintessential family man. She knew that whoever she married would be like her daddy, tall, dark, and handsome, respectful, gentle, kind, and above all, loving._

_Leaning back against the comfortable cushions, she inhaled deeply, letting the tang of sand and sea settle over her like a warm blanket. She absolutely loved it here. What a lucky girl she was to have such a wonderful family and wonderful friends that made it possible for her to spend her summers at the sea shore. Yes, she loved everything about the shore and the Martins, but her favorite thing, the thing she treasured most of all was the time she spent on this porch, taking in everything around her. She sighed and closed her eyes. Maybe one day she would live in a beautiful house like this with her own big family._

_The knob on the French door leading out to the porch turned quietly and a tall, dark-haired young man with deep-set blue eyes and sun-kissed skin walked over to her and sat down beside her. He took her small hand in his and leaned over to kiss her ever so lightly on the cheek. She opened her eyes and smiled._

"_I thought you were playing ball at the community center with the rest of the delinquents and showing them no mercy on the court." She laughed as he tapped her nose with his finger._

"_I had to show them some mercy. Just because I play at school and our team won the conference doesn't mean I have to flaunt my greater skill and agility. I gave them some pointers and excused myself. I swear, though, that Jamie is better every time I see him. I told him he should try out for the team at school. U of M has the best basketball team in the Midwest right now." Gregg pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. "Now that I'm here, what would you like to do, baby? How about putting on that little red bathing suit and we'll go down to the beach?"_

_She sighed and gave him a pout. "Gregg, I asked you not to call me baby. I'm not a baby! I'm seventeen years old. I'm going to be a senior this year and…"_

_Gregg leaned over and captured her soft lips with his. When he finally broke away he was breathing rather heavily. "Della, I know you're not a baby. For your information and future reference, when a man calls a woman 'baby' it's meant as a loving endearment. And, Miss Della Paige Street, I am quite aware that you are a woman in every sense of the word. I don't know whether you realize this or not, but when you finish college, I'm going to marry you, call you baby all the time, and take care of you for the rest of your life. What do you have to say to that?"_

_She squealed with happiness, threw her arms around Gregg and kissed him._

Perry looked up as Della's leg jerked. It was literally the first movement she had made since becoming agitated earlier when she'd recognized Kathy. He thought possibly a small smile or a grimace crossed her lips, but couldn't be certain which. He stroked her fingers with feather-light caresses. "Shhh…shhh, baby. It's okay. I'm right here."

This time when the expression moved across her face, he knew it wasn't a smile.

_It was late. She didn't how late, but it was dark and cold and she couldn't find her watch. She went from room to room in her house but all the clocks had stopped. How odd, she thought. She found herself in the kitchen, where her parents were sitting at the table. Something was wrong. Her mother was crying and her father was drawn and haggard, his lips held in a straight line._

"_Princess," her father said in a weary voice. "Come sit on my lap." She walked over to him and sat down in his lap just as she had as a small girl. She put her arms around his neck and snuggled into the safety and security of his arms. He put his hand on her cheek and pulled her head up so as to look into her hazel eyes, so like her mother's._

"_Della, I have something to tell you and I need you to be brave, Princess. You're very smart and strong and I know that no matter what happens, you'll be able to handle it."_

_She experienced a sudden stabbing fear and could barely swallow. "Daddy, what's wrong? Why is Mom crying? You're scaring me."_

"_Don't be scared, Princess. We've always been honest with you and your brothers and it's not going to be any different now." Her father held his daughter tightly to him. "Della, I haven't been feeling like myself lately, and last week I went to see Dr. Harris. He called this morning and told me what he suspected, and what the tests confirmed. Della, I…I'm very sick. I only…I only have about a year…"_

_She let out a keening cry of anguish. "No! Oh Daddy! No! No! It's a mistake. Dr. Harris is wrong, Daddy, I know it! There must be some other doctor –"_

_Her father was shaking his head, rocking her to and fro like a baby. "No, sweetheart, there is no mistake. Dr. Harris was very thorough and showed my test results to several colleagues. There is no doubt. I don't have much time."_

"_But you promised you would never leave me! You can't go, you just can't."_

"_I know, Princess. I know I promised, but there is nothing that anyone can do. I love you. I love you very much. No man ever wanted a daughter as much as I wanted you. Never forget that." Her father maneuvered her off his lap and stood. She felt his had slip from hers…_

"No! No, Daddy, please, oh please, don't go. You can't leave me. You _**promised**_…"

From somewhere far away she heard a voice, a caring voice, deep and soft. It calmed her and she struggled to see who it was that spoke to her so soothingly. "Shhh…shhh….Della, I'm here, baby. I'm right here. I'm not leaving you. I won't ever leave you. Wake up, honey, you're having a dream. Wake up, Della, please."

Della tried to wake up. She wanted to wake up so badly to see who it was that held her hand, so gently that she could weep, but it was as if someone was forcing her eyes to remain closed. Who was calling her?

"Della, angel, open your eyes. Look at me. I'm right here."

Perry. It was Perry who held her hand and called to her. Her darling Perry, who loved her and took such good care of her. She tried to open her eyes to see him – that handsome face and that impish grin. She wanted to tell him…what? What was it she wanted to tell him? Where was she? She couldn't remember. The house. That's right. She was at the house, the beautiful house he had bought for her as a surprise. He spoiled her so and she loved him. That's what she needed to tell him! But her throat hurt _**so much**_…

She wanted to wake from these dreams, these dreams that she didn't like and that frightened her and made her sad. She wanted to tell Perry she loved him and ask him to make everything all better, to take away the pain these dreams caused. He would do it. He would do anything he could to make her happy. He had shown her that over and over again. He loved her. She didn't know why and he wouldn't tell her so she could make sure he never stopped loving her, but she couldn't think about that now. She had to concentrate on opening her eyes. He wanted her to open her eyes, and she would, because it would make him happy, and she would do anything she could to make him happy.

Della's eyelids fluttered and Perry leaned close to the plastic barrier of the oxygen tent. For a mere five seconds she looked at him with simple, pure love. Then delicate lids slowly dropped over her colorful eyes and she heaved a sigh. Her breathing deepened, the time between breaths slightly longer.

He cried then. Huge, wracking sobs that shook his large frame as well as the bed.

Perry was unaware, but Dr. Kathy Spencer had silently entered the room and witnessed everything. She eased out of the room, closed the door and collapsed against it. After counting to fifty, she reopened the door and stepped back into the room.

"Well," she announced breezily "Let's see what this young lady's temperature is now."


	14. Chapter 14

**Part 3.5 – Bedtime Story**

_Spring had finally arrived in the Midwest. Days were longer, sunny and bright, flowers bloomed, and she was trying to be her happy, sparkling, spirited self, matching her mood to the weather. If she could be normal, then everything would be normal and her father wouldn't be sick._

_But he was. And he got sicker every day. She was terribly upset, but told herself she wouldn't let him see it and add to his worries, not after the terrible scene she had made the night he told her his prognosis. She was determined to be as cheerful and happy as she could around him, as she silently prayed every single second for a miracle. _

_Gregg's impending visit was making it easier to maintain a good mood, but then she would feel guilty and suffer irrational bouts of crying, hiding in her closet or the bathroom with the water running so no one could hear her sobs. She was excited to see Gregg – she needed him now more than ever. He was every bit as devastated as she, and longed to hold her, to give her comfort and strength. When he called to tell he was coming to Michigan, she had been speechless. He would split his spring break between here and the shore, and then be back in June for her graduation._

_She was in her girlie pink bedroom, the bedspread an explosion of flowers and ruffles, the spring breeze billowing filmy curtains away from open windows. Her mother had always wanted a room such as this, and even though she would have preferred a less fussy room, it had made her mother happy to decorate if for a princess. Staring at her reflection in the mirror hung above the fancy vanity table, she assessed herself. The lemon yellow shirtwaist dress and matching cardigan made her look serious and sophisticated, but she wished her mother would let her wear taller heels. The little beige kitten heels were almost flats in her estimation, and Gregg was so tall. She pulled her long, curly hair back from her face and fastened it with a large bronze barrette to keep it out of her eyes. Gregg loved her hair long and curly, and she promised she would never cut it. She placed her hand over her heart, where Gregg's fraternity pin was attached. He had given it to her the night before she and her family left the Martin home at the end of the previous summer. It was, he said, the same as being engaged, and at the appropriate time he would exchange it for an actual engagement ring. She wore it every day._

_She was almost ready to go. Gregg's plane was due in an hour and it would take that long to get to the airport given the distance and traffic. She gave her hair a final brush and her lips a final skim of pale pink lipstick before heading out of her room toward the stairs. Her father was resting, so she didn't go into her parent's bedroom to say goodbye. She would let him rest up for the excitement of when Gregg was actually here so they could have a nice dinner. As she continued down the stairs, the telephone rang and her mother yelled that she would answer it. For a few seconds she heard nothing until her mother let out a heart-wrenching cry that stopped her dead in her tracks. She ran the rest of the way down the stairs and into her father's den to find her mother clutching the receiver in her hand, her face deathly pale, her body trembling uncontrollably._

_She went to her mother quickly, took the receiver from her cold hand and returned it to the cradle. She put her arms around her and hugged her. "Mom, what's the matter? Who was that?"_

_Her mother looked at her only daughter and swallowed hard. Tears formed in her eyes and she hugged her daughter to her fiercely. "Della, oh Della, sweetheart, I'm so sorry, so very sorry. That was Eric Martin. They…the Martins…got a call. Oh Della, the plane Gregg was on…the plane…"_

_She could feel the blood drain from her face as she held herself away from her mother with an uncomprehending stare. For a moment she didn't move, couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. Then the ceiling seemed so much farther away and the room spun as she collapsed in a motionless heap at her mother's feet._

_She felt like Alice, falling and falling and falling into a deep, dark hole. Only there wasn't a Wonderland at the bottom of the hole, there wasn't a bottom at all. She kept falling, spinning out of control, her mother's cries barely audible above the roar in her ears._

_Gregg was gone. The man she loved, the man who loved her, the man who was her future. He couldn't be gone. He said he would never leave her, had promised he would take care of her forever. He promised, just like her father had promised. She wanted to scream – to shout and yell and beg someone to change everything back to the way it had been – to the way it was supposed to be. But nothing emerged from her. Not a sound. Not a cry, not a whimper, and certainly not a scream. _

_Her mother collapsed next to her, and wrapped slender but strong arms around her. "Oh Della," she wept, "Oh Della."_

"You promised you wouldn't leave. Please come back. I need you!"

There it was again, the gentle touch on her hand. This time Della responded by lifting her fingers.

"Della, wake up. You did it before. I'm right here, see? I told you I wouldn't leave you and I won't. You're dreaming, baby, but you have to wake up now."

She felt tears on her cheeks and heard a loud hissing noise. Her chest felt heavy, like when she was a girl and her cat had laid on her to nap. She wanted to open her eyes, wanted to do as the voice commanded so tenderly. She liked the voice. No, she loved the voice. She opened her eyes, and tried to focus on the face she loved.

"You're here…I woke up…you weren't here…it scared me." Every word was almost too painful to describe.

"Della, darling, don't be scared. I'm right here. I'm sorry you thought I was gone. I only went down the hall for a few minutes for a talk with Kathy. I had to leave so Dottie and Ruth could take care of you so you can get better. But I'm back now, and I'm staying. I'll be right here." Long fingers closed around hers. "You were having another dream, precious girl. You were talking in your sleep."

"I – I was dreaming about…about something that happened a long time ago."

So happy she was awake and talking, well _**croaking**_, but not wanting her wakefulness to be stressful, he reached his other hand inside the tent and stroked her arm. After the conversation with Kathy he finally had an idea what the dreams that made her cry out were about and didn't want them to get in the way of her recovery. If she wanted to try to talk about them, to put them to rest once and for all, that's what he would encourage. But if she didn't want to talk, or couldn't talk, he would still encourage her to.

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

"Not…not right now." Her eyes held that same pleading as before, when she looked to him to save her. She coughed suddenly, that horrible barking noise and Perry cringed visibly. Her breathing still seemed better, and he hoped the worst had passed, but she still had a long way to go.

"Perry?"

"What, darling?"

"I want to go home. Please…take me home."

He smiled and held her hand more tightly. It was the only thing he could do. "Della, there is nothing I would like more than to take you home. But sweetheart, you need to stay here a little longer until you're well enough for me to take care of you by myself. When Kathy says you can go home, I promise I'll take you back to our house and wait on you hand and foot. Your every wish will be my command. Close your eyes now baby and take a nap. I'll take one with you."

Della didn't say anything and Perry watched the tears continue to leak from the corners of her eyes.

"What's the matter, baby? Tell me."

"Don't want to sleep," she rasped. "Don't want…to dream anymore. I'm scared."

"Della, as much as I'd like for you to stay awake and talk to me, you do need to rest. You don't need to be scared. I'll be right here. I won't let anything hurt you."

She rolled her head from side to side on the pillow, distressed. "No…no more sleeping. No more dreams."

"What if I tell you a story? Would you like that? Would you close your eyes and rest?"

She squinted at him through the distorting plastic and nodded.

"All right then, here we go." His mind raced to find something that would soothe her. "You know, summer will be here before you know it. When I bought the house I planned on us coming every weekend and spending our vacations here. I know there's no boardwalk, but maybe I can have one built at the edge of our kingdom and down to the beach, just for you to walk on, would you like that?"

Again she nodded.

"All right then, I'll look into that. So it's summer, and we're at our house. It's a beautiful day, warm and calm, and the sound of the ocean could almost lull us to sleep. We're eating lunch – you wanted cold chicken and pasta salad, French bread, pickles, lemonade, and strawberries for desert, so that's what I made. We're eating outside on the back deck and you look smashing in your white shorts and the red and white checked top that ties at your waist. Your hair is pulled back with a headband because you know I like it that way. The jasmine is in bloom and the scent is marvelous. You lean against me and I tell you I love you." He didn't know if the shrubbery surrounding the house was jasmine, but if it wasn't, he would make sure Martin would have it removed and replaced. "While I clean up from lunch, you go upstairs and change into your bathing suit – the turquoise one with the cover-up that is so flattering. We take the boardwalk to the beach and the sand is white and so soft on our feet. It's like walking on a cloud. The water is perfect. Cool, but not cold, and the deeper you walk in, the warmer it becomes. I let you stand on my knees and dive into the surf while you laugh and laugh. Then we get out and sit on a blanket in the brilliant sunlight for a little while and listen to music on the pocket radio you gave me for Christmas. After a time we go back in the water and everything is wonderful, until you get that playful look in your eyes and the next thing I know you're splashing me for all you're worth. I know you can throw like a boy, but I didn't realize how much water you can splash with those lovely hands. But I get even with you. I dive under the waves and come up behind you, grabbing you and holding you against me. You struggle and squirm, but eventually give up and let me kiss you. You lay your head on my shoulder and wrap your arms around my neck and I carry you back to the blanket. I dry you off with the big yellow beach towel we bought in Mexico and we lay down on the blanket."

Della's eyelids drooped a bit, then she widened them with great effort. "Don't stop," she croaked.

He smiled. "So that's where we are. On a blanket in the warm sunshine. You're safe in my arms and you're getting sleepy. The sun is not as hot as earlier and it feels wonderful on our skin. Little fluffy clouds appear in the deep blue sky and we see all sorts of funny things in them. You yawn and you're very sleepy now. You're so light, like those clouds floating in the air, and I'm holding you safe in my arms. It's okay to sleep, Della. You're going to sleep and dream beautiful dreams. When you wake up again I'll be right here, my darling, and you can tell me all about those beautiful dreams. It's okay, baby. Sleep…go to sleep. I'll see you in a little while. I love you."

He had to have more contact with her. Carefully he pulled her hand through the slit in the plastic tent and kissed her fingers tenderly, one by one. He felt her hand relax in his as he placed it back inside the tent. When he glanced at her face, her eyes were closed, and her head dropped slightly to the side as the quickest of sighs escaped her lips. She was asleep, and he could only hope fervently that it would be a peaceful sleep filled with those promised beautiful dreams. Without letting go of her hand, he leaned back in the chair, closed his own eyes and tried to rest. His last thoughts as he allowed sleep to finally claim him, was that he wished like hell that he, and not his beautiful Della, was in that hospital bed. He would make good on his promise to help Della recover, and once she was well, he would help to repair a broken friendship.


	15. Chapter 15

**Part 4.1 – Mae Cusses**

Mae Kirby looked down at her niece with maternal concern. "She's so pale. And is her chest supposed to…to cave in like that with every breath?"

Perry circled Della's aunt with his arm and hugged her reassuringly. "Believe me, Mae, she's a lot better now than she was three days ago."

Mae threw him a frowning look of disapproval. "I'll have a long talk with you about that when she's better, Perry Mason. Why would you wait three days to call me?"

Perry kissed the side of Mae's head, let go of her and sat down wearily in the chair. "I promised I wouldn't leave her," he replied.

"You could have given my number to someone and they could have called," she pointed out.

Perry smiled wanly and rubbed the stubble along his jawline. "I thought you said we'd talk about this when she was well."

Mae regarded him critically and her eyes suddenly softened. "You look like hell."

He stared at her. "Mae, I'm shocked. I don't think I've ever heard you cuss"

"I reserve it for occasions when no other word will do. Cussing is more effective when used judiciously."

"Then I must really look terrible. I think the next time she wakes up I'll prepare her for my inevitable absence and go take a shower."

"You are rather ripe."

He groaned. "I hadn't thought of that. It can't be good for Della that I'm unkempt."

"Unkempt is much too mild a word, Perry."

"I'm beginning to remember why I waited three days to call you." He yawned loud and long. "Her doctor is off shift now. I don't like the resident currently on duty. He comes in only when absolutely necessary and handles her with perfunctory disregard. The nurses tip-toe around him and he won't give me straight answers. He even tried to have me thrown out of here."

"It is rather unusual for a non-family member to…" Mae didn't finish her sentence. The burning look she got from him made her flush. "I'm sorry, Perry. As far as I'm concerned you're family, but to everyone else you're just…her boss."

What Mae said was true. While their relationship didn't exactly take place on back streets, Della was consumed with protecting their mutual reputations by keeping their feelings for one another as private as possible. That she had allowed him to spend the entire night at her apartment Friday night should have been the harbinger that something was wrong. "What did you tell her family?" he bit out, trying not to place too much emphasis on the word 'family'.

Mae regretted her words, knowing that they caused him a certain amount of pain. She suspected her niece's relationship with the intimidating attorney was serious – much more serious than she had been allowed to witness the past few years. Perry had accompanied Della to Michigan once for a visit, and her sister Alice had called immediately with her grave concerns over the 'crush' Della apparently had on her boss and to pump her for information about them on their home turf of Los Angeles. So even in the bosom of her own family Della was reticent about revealing the true nature of their relationship. Mae didn't know positively why Della conducted her life with such caution and reserve, but she had a theory.

"I told them that she was gravely ill and that I would call them when I knew more."

He nodded, almost to himself, for no particular reason.

"I also told them that she was in very capable hands."

Again he nodded. "She is. Her primary physician, Kathy Spencer, is very capable. She's also an old friend."

"I meant in your hands, Perry."

Perry blindly reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"I'm glad her doctor is Kathy Martin. Is that why you're in Carmel? Were you visiting?"

Perry shook his head. "No. We came here to…to get away from the stress of too many trials. The last case took a lot out of Della and she seemed more tired than usual. I thought a change of scenery would be good for her. Little did I know…"

Mae placed her hand on top of his head and played with the wildly disarrayed waves. "You couldn't have known, Perry. And even if she did feel bad, Della wouldn't have admitted it. She never does. She takes care of everyone around her but never admits to her own frailties."

"She claimed a bath was all she needed," he said quietly. "A bath and a cup of tea and she would be fine."

"That's always been her treatment for whatever ailed her. She likes…Perry, look. She's opening her eyes."

Perry unzipped the oxygen tent and slid his hand over Della's. "Hi, precious girl," he said. "Look who's here to see you."

Her eyes seemed glazed and unfocused as she struggled to identify who stood beside Perry. "Aunt Mae." Her voice was nothing more than a quiet rasp.

"Hello dear. I'm glad you're awake."

"How long…" Della attempted a deep breath, fought back a cough and swallowed with effort. "Hurts," she croaked.

"Do you want a drink of water, baby? I'll have Cynthia bring some ice water."

Della nodded and watched him with enormous, shadowed eyes as he stood and walked with weary stiffness from the room. "Sleep," she said with great effort, turning her head toward her aunt. "Make him sleep."

Mae sat down in the chair next to her niece, shaking her head. "You amaze me, Della. We were just talking about how you look out for everyone but yourself, and the first thing you say to me after regaining consciousness is to take care of Perry."

"He worries too much."

Mae laughed quietly. "When it comes to you, yes, I suppose he does. But I'd say he has every right to be worried right now. From what he's told me, you've been very sick. But you're getting better, aren't you?"

Della looked around the room listlessly, eyes still slightly unfocused. "Better," she parroted. "Because…him. Because of him."

Mae could have cried at her niece's admission. It was the most she had ever verbally revealed to her about her relationship with Perry. "I'm glad, Della."

Perry re-entered the room, blonde and buxom Cynthia Powell R.N. close on his heels. Together they rolled back the plastic of the oxygen tent and with barely contained eagerness Perry slid his arm beneath Della's shoulders and gently lifted her so she could sip from the straw Cynthia held for her. After a few weak gulps, Perry felt her go limp and her head fell back against his supportive arm, and he reluctantly laid her down on the pillows.

Cynthia straightened with a satisfied expression on her face. "That was really good, sweetie," she praised Della. "Dr. Spencer will be very pleased."

"Kathy?"

Perry took advantage of the absence of the barrier of plastic and smoothed his hand over her cheek, loving the sensation of touching her skin, even though it felt dry and unfamiliar. "Kathy's not on duty right now, baby. But she'll be back tomorrow. She'll come see you right away. I can't wait to tell her what a good day you've had."

"Good day," she again parroted. "Kiss…kiss me."

Quickly, too quickly for Cynthia to protest, Perry bent and kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh. When she was awake her breathing seemed deeper and less labored. He couldn't wait for when the oxygen tent was no longer necessary and he could comfort her how he knew best. "I love you," he whispered into her ear.

Cynthia was already unfurling the plastic, efficiently tucking it beneath the mattress to re-establish the seal. Della whimpered a bit, raised her hand a few inches from the mattress and then let it fall back in defeat. It broke Perry's heart. He wished he could crawl into the plastic cave with her and hold her how she wanted.

"Her lips…they're dry." He turned to the nurse. "There is a little split in her bottom lip. It must hurt her."

Cynthia nodded. "I'll get some Vaseline for her lips. Pure oxygen is drying. We're pumping fluid into her, but that never seems to keep the lips from cracking and peeling. We'll put more lotion on her hands and face as well." She checked the IV bottles, the oxygen tank dial, and made a notation in Della's chart that hung at the foot of the bed. With a swift smile at Perry and Mae, she bustled from the room.

Mae had been watching Della closely and was relieved to see that she was resting peacefully and her chest seemed to be expanding and contracting more naturally. "As sick as she is, she's still the boss," Mae observed.

Perry started at Mae's choice of words and chuckled. "Yes, she is. But I'll gladly do anything she wants. Anything."

"You always have, haven't you? Done whatever she wants, that is. She's never really been just your secretary."

Perry smiled down at Della, then up at Mae, wondering what he could say that wouldn't upset Della later if she found out. "Mae, five years ago I had my practice, a moderate amount of success, a few friends, a long-term relationship…and I was simply existing, just going through the motions. Then one day the most beautiful, smartest, caring woman I had ever met walked into my office and I came alive." He looked down at Della again with aching tenderness. "She changed me. What I give to her or do for her pales in comparison to what she's given me."

Mae swallowed hard. "Well." She cleared her throat of a threatening quaver. "She told me to make you sleep. Since she's having such a good day and I'm here now, you are going to follow her orders."

"Mae, I'm so tired I don't think I can put up much of a fight aside from saying for the millionth time that I promised I wouldn't leave her."

Mae picked up the folded green quilt from the foot of the bed, shoved it into his arms, turned him, and propelled him toward the door. "Take this back to your hotel. For some reason that very sick girl is more worried about you than about herself. If you get some sleep and show up looking more human, she'll be much happier. And if she's happy…"

He spun around and grabbed her shoulders. "I'm happy," he finished. "I won't be gone long. I'll shower, change, and be right back."

"You'll do nothing of the sort. She specifically told me to make you sleep, and sleep you will. I don't want you back here for at least six hours."

"I'll be back in three." He hugged Mae quickly before she could argue. "I can't break my promise to her. She wakes up a bit confused and has dreams…she talks about somebody leaving her. If she wakes up again, tell her I'll be right back so she doesn't get agitated. And please make sure Cynthia puts something on her lips."

Mae gave him one last push toward the door. "Get out of here. I'll take over the worrying for a while. Sleep, Perry. It's what she wants."


	16. Chapter 16

**Part 4.2 – Perry Sleeps**

Perry took the elevator down to the lobby, where he spent several minutes making telephone calls. Paul Drake was shocked and upset, and promised to apprise Gertie of Della's illness. Perry had a heck of a time convincing the private detective not to drive down to Carmel that night, and was grateful that Paul was such a good friend to him and Della. He then dialed a local number and spoke to Martin, asking for a few additional favors of him. The designer assured him it was no inconvenience whatsoever to do what he asked, for most of it was already taken care of and merely needed to be moved into the house.

The house was empty and silent when he opened the front door. He headed straight upstairs and into the bathroom for a shower, leaving a trail of clothes in the hallway he would pick up later. Standing under the strong stream of hot water cleared away some of the anguish of the past three days, and he felt refreshed by the time he finally stepped out of the steamy stall and dried himself vigorously with the only towel that wasn't musty from having been left wadded up on the floor. He moved into the bedroom and dressed in silk pajamas, robe and slippers – he couldn't believe he had remembered to pack slippers and Della hadn't – and picked up two more towels and her still damp socks. Laden with six bath towels, three hand towels, Della's socks, and the bottle of bourbon, he descended the stairs and loaded everything but the bourbon into the washer in the mud room off the kitchen. Bless Martin for making practical decisions about what necessities would be required for the first weekend spent in the house.

Perry scuffed into the kitchen and rooted through the refrigerator, settling on leftover cold spaghetti to eat because he didn't want to dirty any pans to heat it up. There was a healthy amount of wine remaining from Saturday's dinner as well, which he poured into a wine glass. But before sipping any of the wine, he uncorked the bottle of bourbon and swigged directly from it, the whiskey a liquid balm for his exhausted, terrorized nerves. Feeling warm and soothed by the bourbon, he twiddled with the dial of the blue Crosley Bullseye Bakelite radio until he found a station currently playing old big band recordings, and settled wearily into the chair he had selected as 'his' at the kitchen table and proceeded to eat cold spaghetti.

He scraped the last of the sauce from the plate with a piece of bread and pushed the plate away from him. His cigarette case and lighter were lying on the table so he lit up and took a deep drag. He sat at the kitchen table in the dark, smoking, listening to the music Della loved and the washing machine, his brain blank and aching.

When the washer cycle ended he loaded the towels and the pair of socks in the dryer and proceeded to tidy the kitchen. Leaving the plate and wine glass to dry on the sideboard, he made his way back up the stairs and picked up the trail of clothing in the hallway, as well as Della's dungarees and white shirt, which he probably should have washed with the towels. Discovering a hamper in the closet, he tossed everything in and let the lid fall back in place. He pulled up the covers that had been flung back to reveal Della's rigid, convulsing body and arranged the quilt once again on the bed. He shed his robe, sat on the edge of the mattress and kicked off his slippers. He remained there for several minutes, hands clasped in his lap, telling himself over and over that Della was going to be fine, that she would soon be home and in this very same bed with him, and that he was only going to sleep for two hours, then head back to the hospital to relieve Mae.

The sheets were cool as he slipped between them. He reached out to pull Della's pillow toward him and his hand encountered something beneath it. Her discarded nightie. He dragged it toward him and wrapped his arms around the scrap of flannel. He fell asleep clutching the nightie, listening to the radio playing in the kitchen.

"_I love you."_

_She looked up at him. "I love you, too." She returned her attention to the brief she was editing, a red grease pencil held between her fingers, tapping against the table in concert with Benny Goodman's 'Sing, Sing, Sing'._

"_I love you."_

_She looked up at him again. "And I love you." After a swift smile, she let her eyes drop to the brief._

"_I love you."_

_She didn't look at him until she had pushed the brief off to the side and folded her hands in front of her on the table. "Go ahead. What is it you want to talk about?"_

_He grinned at her. "I just like saying I love you."_

"_And I like hearing it, darling, but I know you. Telling me you love me three times in a row is merely a prelude to what you really have on your mind. What is it? We have a lot of work to do."_

_He gave her his best crestfallen look. "Don't you like saying I love you to me?"_

"_I do. I answered you twice already."_

"_I like that phrase too. 'I do'. We could say both in front of a judge, baby."_

_She sighed and hooked her index finger around his. "We could, but we aren't going to."_

_Now he really was crestfallen. "Let's discuss this more. I'm not going to accept that answer without an explanation."_

"_I've already given you an explanation several times, my darling."_

"_You don't call a man 'my darling' when you are refusing his marriage proposal, sweetheart. You're sending mixed messages."_

"_There is no mixed message. I love you. I'm just not going to marry you."_

_He sat back and looked at her with a blank expression. "Because you don't love me enough to marry me?"_

_She slid from her chair and onto his lap in one graceful movement. Her hands held his head as she kissed him, deeply, sensuously. His hands spanned her ribcage, long fingers digging into her soft flesh. "I love you too much to marry you, my darling man," she whispered against his searching lips._

Perry awoke with a jerk. He was on his side, hugging Della's nightie, his head resting on her pillow. He checked the luminous dial of his watch and swore vehemently. He had been asleep for almost five hours. Flinging back the covers, he sprang from the bed and flicked on the light. Dressing almost frantically, his brain still fogged from sleep, he had to tell himself aloud what to do. "Boxers, socks, corduroys, shirt, belt, sweater, shoes. No, boxers, socks, corduroys, _**deodorant**__,_ shirt, belt, sweater, shoes." He raced into the bathroom for his grooming case, brushed his teeth, slapped on a bit of cologne and swore again when he got his shirt buttoned without applying deodorant and had to unbutton and re-button, each wasted second keeping him from Della. He shouldn't have left the hospital. What if Della had woken up again? He had thought not installing a phone in the house would make it a real getaway; that they wouldn't be tempted to conduct business while taking time out from crime and criminals, but now he couldn't wait for Martin to arrange for one to be hooked up. If she had woken up, Mae could have called him and he could have talked to her, reassured her that he hadn't left her, not really.

He ran downstairs and into the kitchen to grab his cigarette case and lighter, and to pull the laundry out of the dryer. One of Della's socks was missing. He shook out each towel, but it wasn't anywhere to be found. He distinctly remembered putting two socks in the dryer. He checked the washer tub. It wasn't there. Scratching his head and cussing again about wasted seconds, he left the towels in a basket atop the dryer, grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter and streaked through the house to the front door. Snatching his jacket from the peg and jamming his arms in it, he slammed the front door and ran down the steps to his car, almost slipping on the slick pavement.

Once behind the wheel of the big car, a calmer state of mind overtook him. It wasn't as if it was that night, that horrible night he had placed a fever-ravaged Della in the back seat wrapped in the quilt from their bed and driven through the fog and mist to the hospital. She was already there. She was already getting better. She woke up and talked and drank water, and commanded him to kiss her. He eased his foot off the accelerator and took a bite of the apple. He had to maintain a modicum of sanity, had to be strong for Della so that she could get better faster. He also had to show her 'family' that he wouldn't let anything happen to her, and if something did happen, like this, that he was capable of taking care of her. Which meant that no one would _**ever **_know what went on less than two hours before she convulsed.

The weather was still cold and damp, and he hurried from the visitor parking area to the lobby of the hospital, ran to catch the elevator and rode it impatiently to the third floor, shaking moisture from his hair and clothing. He was smoothing his hair back into place when the elevator doors opened on the third floor and he stepped out onto the C.C.U. He immediately sensed something was amiss – there were no nurses at the station and a small crowd of people were gathered in the hallway, blocking his view of Della's room. His heart stopped, then raced painfully as he broke into a run.

A tall, thin man with curly chestnut hair turned at the sound of Perry's feet pounding on the tile and took several steps toward him, waving his arms. Perry tried to push past him, and would have if Joe the orderly and Mae hadn't grabbed his arms and slowed him down. He struggled mightily, landing an inadvertent blow to the tall man's face, but two more orderlies joined in the task of restraining him and soon enough he was stilled.

"Perry!" Mae shouted. "Stop it! She's okay."

"Let go of me," he growled to the orderlies. "Let me in there."

Mae slapped her hands flat against his cheeks and forced him to look at her. "Perry, she's okay. She had a spell, but she's okay now. Kathy Martin is in there with her, as well as two other doctors, and a battalion of nurses. Look at me! She's in good hands."

Perry was breathing hard, his heart still beating much too fast, adrenaline exploding from his veins. He resisted the pressure of Mae's hands, ignored the sting of her slaps. How could Della be okay if whatever had happened required the assistance of three doctors and a 'battalion' of nurses? "Mae, tell them to let me go," he said with ominous calm.

Mae shook her head and continued to hold his face between her hands. "Absolutely not. Not until you calm down and promise you won't make a break for her room. And especially not until you apologize to Jamie for giving him what will most likely be a very impressive shiner."

Blue eyes wild with unknown fear sought the face of the tall, thin man with curly chestnut hair. Like Della's. Jamie. Oh good grief, he had assaulted Della's brother.


	17. Chapter 17

**Part 4.3 – Emergency Contact**

Perry sat in the waiting area, his head in his hands, eyes riveted to the floor. He couldn't look at Mae, couldn't look at Jamie or Robbie, and he sure as hell couldn't look at Alice Street. The orderlies had escorted him to a corner in the waiting area, forced him into a chair, and now stood guard on either side of him in case he should attempt another run at Della's room.

Nurse Cynthia had emerged from room three-ten, her normally immaculate, starched uniform rumpled and stained a sickening mixture of orange and green, carrying bed linens similarly stained. Close at her heels was Louise, her uniform not as stained, but still showing evidence of Della's 'spell'. Perry's knees had begun to shake and his struggles against restraining hands resumed in earnest as he tried in vain to enter Della's room. It took four men and Mae to drag him away, with Alice Street bringing up the rear, her hazel eyes – Della's eyes – dark with shock. Only Mae seemed solicitous of his feelings, and every once in a while patted his knee. Everyone else avoided him entirely, their distance and combined silence a resounding rebuke of his behavior.

He wouldn't apologize. They must know he had been frantic about Della. How would they have reacted if they had stepped off the elevator into a scene like that?

Mae patted his knee again. "Kathy said when they get Della cleaned up and settled she'll come out and talk to us."

Perry raised his head. "Why does she need to be cleaned up, Mae? What happened? And why is Kathy back so soon?"

Jamie Street removed an ice pack from his eye, which was nearly swollen shut. "She came with us."

"What are you all doing here?"

"I called them," Mae reminded him. "I called them before I left home."

"Kathy called, too," Robbie Street added.

"The only person who didn't call was _**you**_," Alice Street joined in, her voice low and steady, so much like her daughter's.

Perry's temper flared. "That's because I was _**with your daughter.**_ I promised I wouldn't leave her."

"So she could have died without us ever knowing she was sick," Robbie stated flatly.

"No," Perry shook his head emphatically. "That was never an option. If I wasn't leaving her, she sure as hell wasn't leaving me."

"You could have requested a phone in her room or asked someone to call," Alice Street pointed out, her voice rising a bit. "How could you not contact me? She's my daughter, Mr. Mason. I should have been called right away."

Perry ran his hands through his hair. "She became ill so quickly. All I could think about was getting her fever down and stopping the convulsion…"

"Convulsion!" Alice Street sat forward in alarm, flinging an angry look at her sister. "You didn't tell us anything about a convulsion."

Mae looked from her sister to Perry Mason and her eyes hardened. "I didn't know anything about a convulsion."

Perry's misery mounted. Her family, even Mae, didn't understand, didn't grasp how sick she had been, how he had acted on instinct and couldn't leave her for fear that she might stop breathing. And he couldn't have left her once she was in the hospital either. Not for a moment.

"What I want to know is why she was in Carmel and not home if she was so sick." Jamie was once again holding the ice pack to the left side of his face, so it was only one brown eye that questioned Perry.

"It was just a cold," Perry said defensively. "We finished a trial Friday and she was tired and achy. After a bath and a good night's sleep, she was fine. Saturday she had a sneezing fit that was frightening, but afterward she was fine again. She didn't have much of an appetite Sunday, so I forced her to eat and drink lots of tea. By early evening Sunday it was apparent she might actually be quite ill, but even then she rallied." He felt his face flush. She certainly had rallied. "And then she spiked a fever and started to convulse."

Everyone stared at him, each lost in their own questioning thoughts as to how he had such first-hand knowledge of the progression of Della's illness.

"Well, we're here now and can see to it that she's properly taken care of," Alice Street said briskly.

Perry's spine stiffened. "She's been very well taken care of."

"And we thank you for everything you've done, Mr. Mason, sincerely. But we're here now, and we'll take over."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Mrs. Street."

"Mr. Mason, she's my daughter."

"But she's my responsibility, Mrs. Street."

Alice Street stared at him incredulously. "What on earth! I'm her mother! What do you mean she's your responsibility?"

Perry met Della's mother's stare almost defiantly. "You're her mother, but I'm her emergency medical contact. If she cannot lucidly make her own decisions, I am legally empowered to make them. Not you, not Mae, and not her brothers. Me."


	18. Chapter 18

**Part 4.4 – Not Very Happy**

No one Dr. Kathy Martin Spencer had ever known personally had become her patient – aside from minor scrapes and burns suffered by family members – until Della Street was brought into the emergency room at the Carmel Community Hospital during her shift. Even though she hadn't seen Della since she was seventeen years old, she still felt she knew Della well, and was finding it difficult to remain detached enough to make sound medical decisions. The unusual, frightening turn in Della's condition had so shaken her she had been momentarily taken aback, frozen into inactivity until Cynthia had taken charge with assured experience. Once the initial shock had passed, Kathy buckled down and all the years of preparing for such crises kicked in, and as the room filled with medical personnel, it had been she who assumed the mantle of medical efficiency and the patient was at last resting as comfortably as could be expected.

Now it was on to the chore she would struggle with even more mightily: talking with the family she also knew well, the family who was scared and anxious, far from home and confronted with Della's grown up life away from them. As she turned the corner and the tableau revealed itself, her heart sank.

Perry Mason was seated in a chair at the far end of the waiting area, with two orderlies standing behind and off to the side, while the entire Street family had taken seats across from him. Even Mae, who knew Perry better than any of them, had joined her family in the confrontational seating arrangement. Mae's chair may have been hitched forward a few inches, but she was still letting him know where her allegiance lay. Kathy wondered how what she had to say would be received by everyone.

Perry saw Kathy first and quickly got to his feet. The orderlies made defensive movements toward him but relaxed when it became apparent the big attorney wasn't inclined to bolt, but would wait for Dr. Spencer to join the group. Jamie and Robbie jumped to their feet as well, then retook their seats when Kathy purposely chose the chair to Perry's right and sat down.

The ordeal with Della was evident in Kathy's demeanor and attire. She was subdued, weary, stained, and disheveled. No one had spoken a word since her approach had been noted, and the expectant atmosphere surrounding the little group squeezed the breath from her. She was picking up a definite vibe of unrest from the Streets, and she had never seen a more ferocious look of determination on a man's face as what Perry was presenting.

"She's fine," Kathy began with. She noted that no one relaxed. "I've heard of this with pneumonia, but I've never seen it happen. It's rather unusual."

"What was it Kathy?" Mae asked. "Della suddenly sat up coughing. It was different from her previous coughing and it scared me. I pressed the call button and that nurse came running, then called for a doctor. You all walked in and…" Mae shuddered.

"And Della expelled the infection," Kathy finished.

"She what?" Perry asked in alarm.

Kathy placed her hand on his arm. "The infection in her lungs spontaneously…erupted. I guess that's the best way to describe it. It was pretty harrowing for her." And for us, she thought ruefully.

"And for us," Alice Street echoed her thoughts aloud. "I've never heard a person make a noise like that."

Perry glared at Mae. "You made me go home."

Mae glared right back at him. "_**She**_ wanted you to go home. Don't shoot the messenger."

"It wouldn't have mattered if you were here or not, Perry," Kathy told him. "You would have been removed from the room as well. No one needs an audience for something like that – no matter who that audience might be."

"She had to be so scared," he said with anguish and stood up again. The orderlies moved toward him but he glared them to a standstill. "I promised I wouldn't leave, and look what happened when I broke that promise."

"Mason, you make it sound like you're the only thing standing between her and the grave," Robbie said disgustedly.

Kathy held up her hands before Perry could retort. "I think we can concede that if it weren't for Mr. Mason, Della could very well have died."

"The only thing I'll concede is that Della wouldn't be sick if he didn't work her to death then try to make up for it with a trip somewhere cold and wet," Alice Street rejoined bitterly. "Emergency medical contact my eye! It's you who made her sick in the first place, and then wouldn't let her rest at home like she needed."

Perry's hands tensed into fists at his sides and his face turned stormy. "Mrs. Street, I assure you if I had known Della would be this sick I wouldn't have brought her here. She kept insisting she was fine, and except for a bit of coughing and sneezing she was. It came on so fast. One minute she was sleeping peacefully and the next she was burning up and convulsing."

"And how do you know she was sleeping peacefully?" Jamie Street asked acidly. "Kathy, we're her family, but this man seems to think he has the right to make decisions for her."

Kathy tried to be the diplomat. "If Della appointed him her emergency medical contact, then he has every right to make decisions in regard to her treatment if she cannot. But," she added as Jamie's face turned as stormy as Perry Mason's, "let's check it out to make sure."

"I want to see her," Alice Street announced. "I flew across country and I want to see my daughter right now."

Kathy sighed wearily and slumped a bit in her chair. "She needs to be kept quiet. What happened is probably the best thing for her, and her temperature is lower, but she's still very sick. Instead of dealing with that dry cough and tight congestion, we're now dealing with a very productive cough that is bringing up a lot of phlegm. She can breathe a bit better now, but insofar as comfort, she's most likely more miserable now than she was. I have half a mind to deny visiting privileges."

There was a chorus of immediate, heated objections and Kathy had to shout to quiet everyone. "I said I only had half a mind," she said with a tired smile. "I'm going to allow one person to see her and depending on how she handles one person will be the deciding factor whether or not I allow anyone else to see her."

Alice Street literally jumped to her feet. "Let's go then," she said impatiently to Kathy. "Take me to see her."

Kathy gave Alice Street, the woman who for so many years had been as close to her as her own mother, a sad, almost pitying smile. "Della has asked to see a particular person," she said gently. "She wants Perry."

Every pair of eyes shifted to Perry Mason with contempt. It made Kathy very upset to see him treated this way by the Streets, because they were good people. Their behavior had to be caused by their great worry over Della's condition. If only they had seen what she had seen over the past four days, how afraid he had been, how gentle, how devoted.

"We should never have let her move out here," Alice lamented bitterly. "She's turned her back on her family for that man."

Perry turned his back on the group and shoved his hands in his pockets. He couldn't let them see how they shook. "Go," he said quietly. "Go see her. I won't stand in your way."

Kathy's heart nearly broke. "I'll take you in, Aunt Alice."

Without any graciousness whatsoever, Alice and her sons filed past Perry Mason as they followed Kathy. Mae hung back.

"I'm staying with Perry," she called after them. She reached out and grasped his arm. "That was big of you."

He remained standing stiffly with his back to her, still smarting from how she had symbolically ganged up on him earlier. "Do you think like they do? That she shouldn't have ever come out here?"

Mae rested her head against his back, hugging him from behind. "From a very selfish, lonely place in me, I am so glad she came out here. I missed having family around. When she asked if she could come out and stay with me until she got a job and could live on her own, I was thrilled. She worked hard to overcome her lack of references and experience, and paid a lot of dues in one steno pool after another. She was so excited when you offered her a job. I hadn't seen her that excited since…"

"Since when?"

Mae shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It was just so nice to see her that excited again."

Perry figured he knew what Mae was thinking about, but now was not the time to get into it. "I shouldn't have left," he told her. "I should have found a corner somewhere in the hospital and taken a catnap. I hate it that I wasn't here."

Mae hugged him tighter. "I know. Don't be upset, but she did call for you. I told her you were sleeping, just like she wanted. She seemed to understand. As horrible as it was, she wanted you, but she understood."

"Mae, I'd like to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell Della or your sister. And you especially can't tell Jamie or Robbie."

"You want to get married, but she doesn't."

Perry turned and pulled Mae around in front of him. "Did she tell you?"

Mae shook her head. "You forget I've been watching you two for years and that I'm very astute when it comes to my niece. I think I've got you pegged pretty well, too, Perry. In some ways you're easier to read than Della."

Perry dropped his arm across Mae's shoulders and steered her toward the hallway leading to room three-ten. "So much for being the tall, dark, mysterious stranger in your niece's life," he said with a slight smile.

"Tall and dark you are," she agreed readily. "Mysterious went by the wayside that time you took Della and me to dinner and I saw you on the dance floor with her."

"I should have known better than to try to pull the wool over your eyes, Mae."

"You realize I have to show support for my sister."

"I know."

"If she becomes unreasonable, I'll step in, but she has a point, Perry. She is Della's mother."

"And that's why she's in there now and I'm not."

No sooner had he spoken those words then they turned the corner and Alice Street emerged from room three-ten at a run, crying hysterically, Jamie and Robbie on her heels. The sobbing woman threw herself into Mae's arms and clung to her sister for dear life.

Jamie flung his arms around both women and threw Perry a venomous look. "She wants you," he spit out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Perry entered the room after more than a seven-hour absence, Della was propped up on several pillows, which forced her into an almost completely upright position, her shadowed and sunken eyes closed. Her head rolled from side to side against the pillow in agitation, and her legs moved restlessly. Louise was trying in vain to keep her still but she was having nothing of it. Her eyes opened briefly, and it appeared to Perry that she still couldn't focus well.

He moved swiftly to the side of the bed. "Hi, baby," he said, hoping his voice didn't shake.

"She's a mite upset right now, Mr. Mason," Louise informed him. "She wasn't very nice to her mother."

"That doesn't sound like Della. She loves her mother."

"I'm not sure she really knew who was here. It broke her mother's heart. She manages your name, and that's about it."

"Has she been this agitated since…since what happened?" She looked fragile and exhausted, pale and thin. The crack in her bottom lip had noticeably widened, even though he detected a sheen of Vaseline covering her mouth. Her hands fluttered in concert with the motion of her legs.

"Pretty much. She's probably very uncomfortable after everything. Add to it the new cough and the looser congestion, and she's just not very happy right now."

As if on cue, Della suddenly sat forward and began to cough. Perry winced. He didn't know what was worse, the dry, barking cough, or this rattling, congested cough. Louise indicated for Perry to help her roll up the sides of the oxygen tent, which they swiftly accomplished. Louise then brought a small bin to Della's face and commanded her to "get it out". Perry turned his back as Della coughed and gagged. Even though he knew this meant a step forward in her recovery, it still caused him physical pain to see her so uncomfortable.

Louise touched his arm. "I'm going to leave the tent up for a few minutes. I think she could use some human contact from someone other than a doctor or a nurse."

Perry gave her a look of supreme gratitude and moved back to the bed. Gingerly seating himself on the edge of the bed, and being careful of the IV in her arm, he slowly slid his arms beneath her and held her close. She stiffened a bit and continued her agitated movements.

"Perry," she said. Her voice had lost that low, barking quality and was now simply extremely congested.

"Yes, darling. I'm here."

She coughed and he rubbed her back. Her arms hung limply at her sides, as if she didn't have the strength to move them, but her hands still fluttered restlessly.

"I'm sick, Perry," she said pitifully.

He wanted to laugh, but thought that might not be the best response. "Yes, baby, you are. But you're getting better. Kathy said so."

"My Kathy."

"Yes, your Kathy. Isn't that wonderful? When you're well you and Kathy can sit on the upstairs porch and talk just like you used to. Would you like that?"

He thought the idea of being with Kathy on the porch would please her, but it made her movements more agitated. She wasn't as alert as she had been before he left for his confounded nap, and he wasn't quite sure how to take it. Kathy said the expulsion of the infection was a good thing, but she seemed more out of it than ever.

Even the safety and security of his arms couldn't quell her unrest. He began to rock her, moved one hand up to cradle the back of her head and press her against him. "Hold onto me, darling. I won't let you go until you feel better."

She coughed, and Louise appeared at the side of the bed with the small kidney shaped basin, but Perry waved her away as the cough failed to escalate into a fit. He couldn't stand her constant movement to find comfort, both mental and physical.

"Would you like me to tell you another story, baby? You liked the story about the perfect summer day at our house didn't you? And you had beautiful dreams"

She remained silent, save for the sound of her rattling, congested breathing.

He felt helpless. He didn't know what to do in the face of her unresponsiveness, fluttering hands and constant leg stretching. "Della, baby, tell me what I can do to make you feel better. Help me out. I don't know what to do."

Still she remained silent.

Desperately searching his mind for something that would make her happy, he thought back to her excitement at discovering the house and the short time they had been able to spend together before she became ill. She had been giddy, humming all the time, exploring the rooms and almost squealing with delight at each new discovery.

She struggled a bit in his arms and he knew his heart would break as her mother's had if she pushed him away. He began to hum, very softly, into her ear. He felt her relax a bit, and he raised his voice, singing softly in a mellow baritone.

_I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight._

_I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night. _

_The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade._

She sighed. He continued.

_I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight._

_I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night. _

_The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade._

Her legs slowed their jerking and stretching, and she signed once more.

_The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming._

_My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?_

_I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade._

The arm not tethered to the IV crept up and grabbed hold of his sweater above his shoulder blade. The arm with the IV needle grabbed a handful of cashmere near his waist. With her head pillowed against his chest, her cracked, Vaseline-slathered lips broke into a smile.

_Let us stray till break of day,_

_In love's valley of dreams._

_Just you and I, a summer sky,_

_A heavenly breeze kissing the trees._

_So don't let me wait, come to me tenderly in the June night._

_I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight,_

_A love song, my darling, a Moonlight Serenade._

Neither of them noticed that Alice Street had re-entered the room and stood trembling at the foot of the bed. And both were oblivious when Louise stepped away, took Alice's arm and drew her into the hallway and silently closed the door behind them.


	19. Chapter 19

**Part 4.5 – Me Three**

Alice Street sat alone in a corner of the C.C.U. waiting area, arms hugging her middle and chin lowered to her chest. Her sons had wandered away to find coffee and a place to smoke that wouldn't bother her and to avoid her 'Mom' look of disapproval. She was convinced cigarettes had caused the premature death of her husband, and she was driven to distraction that both Jamie and Robbie smoked – and she suspected that Della did as well.

Another thing driving her to distraction was her daughter's reaction to seeing her. Or maybe it was because Della didn't see her that was so troubling. She had opened her eyes, those eyes her father had been so thrilled were the same color as her mother's, but she looked right through her and wouldn't allow any of the maternal comfort she so desperately wanted to give. No, she had called for _**him**_, that man she worked for; that man who had gotten her arrested and jeopardized her life on more than one occasion; that man who spoke so suavely and commandingly and was so darned handsome. She wanted _**him**_ to comfort her, _**him**_ to hold her, _**him**_ to soothe her.

And after what she had seen, Alice Street understood why.

Her daughter was in love, and that man did a good job of making it seem like he loved Della. Both Mae and Kathy had sung his praises, about how devoted he was, how he had probably saved her life by sheer force of will and quick thinking. She should be grateful to him, but the knowledge that her daughter was obviously intimate with that man filled her with disappointment.

Alice thought her daughter was beautiful and special, but what could a man like Perry Mason possibly see in a small-town Michigan girl like Della? He was older and charming and no doubt had dated his share of movie stars and wealthy, sophisticated women. What could a girl who had planned to go to college and join her father's advertising firm, marry her clean-cut sweetheart, and some day be a mother give to _**him**_, a brilliant, well-known attorney? Did he know how after Gregg was killed and her father died and money became scarce that she had given up her plans for college and instead attended business school at night while working full time at her father's flagging firm? Did he know that what she earned had paid the mortgage and allowed Jamie and Robbie to finish college? That her selflessness had allowed her brothers to devote their energy to their studies, and that both boys had taken jobs in town when they could have made so much more in Detroit or Grand Rapids or Chicago? Did he know that she moved to California only after the firm's partners abruptly closed the firm without consulting her, and that the final business settlement offered could have paid for her to attend college, but that she had taken it directly to the bank and paid off the house for her mother?

She didn't like how she felt right now, just moments after being unceremoniously ushered from her daughter's hospital room by that terribly efficient nurse. It hurt to know your daughter was too grown up for her mother, that the arms of a man, the arms of _**that man**_, brought the comfort that had always been your purpose in life.

Della was her only daughter, her baby, and the miles that separated them these many years had been difficult. While telephone calls and letters sufficed for her friendship with Joan Martin, they simply weren't enough when it came to being involved in her daughter's life. She felt distant and disconnected, as if she no longer knew her own daughter. Her Della, her sweet, loving Della, the Della who left home still in mourning for her deceased fiancé wouldn't take a man to her bed without being married to him. And certainly not _**that man**_.

What she had seen, what she had heard in that hospital room made Alice happy and sad and angry all at once, a jumbled reaction to the reality that her daughter was a grown woman with a life she knew virtually nothing about. A grown woman who didn't need her mother anymore, and who didn't feel comfortable telling her mother about her new life. That hurt, too. It hurt almost more than she could bear.

Someone sat down beside her but she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to pay much attention. In the back of her mind she reasoned it must be Jamie or Robbie, so when Perry Mason's deep voice spoke her name she was surprised.

"Mrs. Street?"

She lifted her chin and met his brilliant blue eyes. There was no way around it – he was the best looking man she had ever seen up close. No wonder Della was so enamored. His eyes alone were enough to make a woman swoon, but their intensity could intimidate and flash with rage, as they had all witnessed. She couldn't even think to reply, so mesmerized was she by them.

"I see where Della gets her powers of concentration," he said with a small smile.

"I knew you were here. Well, I knew someone was here," she amended. "My thoughts are a bit consuming at the moment."

"Would they be less consuming if I told you I'm here to take you back in to see Della? She was agitated and uncomfortable earlier, but she's much better now. Come with me before she falls asleep. She wants to see you."

Alice Street hesitated. Lord knew she wanted to see her daughter, but as she studied his face, she wondered if the sincerity in his words and tone was real or if that solicitous, convivial manner of speaking was what he used to extract testimony from witnesses. "You have no idea how much it hurts to know your own daughter doesn't want you."

"Mrs. Street, she wants you. She just –"

"She just wants you more, Mr. Mason." Alice tried to keep the bitterness she felt from her voice. "When she moved out here she was still my little girl, fresh out of business school and unsure of what she wanted to be when she grew up. She was so homesick and disillusioned that her skills weren't appreciated. We talked all the time on the telephone and wrote long, long letters. Then she called one day and told me she had accepted a job as a legal secretary. Her boss was an up and coming criminal trial attorney, and he was paying her a small fortune. The work was challenging and exciting, everything she had always wanted in a job. And the longer she worked for this attorney, the shorter her letters became. She didn't call as much and she kept secrets from me. I learned more about my own daughter from Mae than I did from Della herself."

"Mrs. Street –"

"Let me have my say, Mr. Mason, and then we'll go see exactly how much my daughter needs her mother. When she brought you to visit us Mr. Mason, we were all concerned. Mae had warned us about your relationship with Della. She sees much more than most of us see, except for maybe Della. Anyway, it was very plain how Della felt about you, and the boys and I were worried. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't tell me anything. She said what she felt for you was private and that it was nobody's business. I thought nothing could break my heart as much as when she left, but knowing that she couldn't – or wouldn't – trust me with her feelings about you crushed me. And now she's sick and I want to be her mother, and she won't let me."

"That's not true, Mrs. Street. I know for a fact Della loves you very much. And she misses you every second of every day. As a matter of fact, we're in Carmel because I wanted to ease her homesickness."

Alice Street went on as if he hadn't spoken. "There's a saying, Mr. Mason: be careful what you wish for. All her father and I ever wanted was for our daughter to be happy and to be her own person. Logically I know Della is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions, but in my heart she's still my baby, and that will never change. I guess I just want her to be her own person closer to me, where I can see her every day, or at the very least more than once every couple of years. I feel like something is broken between us and I don't know what it is or how to fix it. Mothers are supposed to make everything better, but I can't. Not when she's so closed off about her life here." She almost added 'with you', but didn't because she didn't know how he would react. He was so big and exuded such authority and power. She had heard and read things about his courtroom persona and even though Mae said he was quite civil, she still wasn't sure.

Perry deeply wished that Alice Street didn't feel this way, that she and her sons weren't so upset with Della's choice of where and how she lived her life, but the older woman didn't want to hear anything from him right now. This wasn't a time for acrimony. Everyone close to Della needed to present a united front so that she could get better all that more quickly. She was getting better, but was still sick and miserable and uncomfortable and not herself. Didn't they see that? Didn't they see that everything he did he did for Della's wellbeing? Didn't they see how much he cared? How much he loved Della? He wanted to comfort this woman who had been responsible for giving him the best thing in his life. He wanted to help her understand that just because Della loved and needed him it didn't mean she didn't love and need her mother as well.

Perry reached into his pocket and withdrew his handkerchief. If he had learned nothing through this ordeal, he had realized he always needed to have a handkerchief within close range. He handed it to Della's distraught mother as tears threatened. With some trepidation he put his hand on hers – small and delicate like her daughter's and spoke gently.

"Mrs. Street, you may think I'm out of line, but I hope you'll take what I'm about to say in the manner in which it's intended. Della is the most wonderful human being I have ever met. She's beautiful and smart and funny, independent and stubborn, and sometimes downright impossible, but you have every right to be extremely proud of what she's accomplished in her young life. What she's brought to my life and to my practice can't be easily measured, but it's safe to say that if not for her I wouldn't be able to accomplish half of what I do and that I wouldn't be half the man I've managed to become." He paused to gauge her response, but she was hiding behind his handkerchief. "You and your husband gave me the greatest gift I've ever received and you have my undying gratitude for teaching her to be her own person. But you're wrong when you say she doesn't need you. She needs you now more than ever."

Alice Street peeked at him from behind the scrap of linen with teary, wary hazel eyes. "Mae said you could talk a fish out of water. That was quite a speech, Mr. Mason."

Perry got to his feet and extended his hand. After a slight hesitation, Alice Street accepted it and arose with a natural grace handed down to her daughter.

"Then I'll condense it, Mrs. Street. Della is happy. She's safe. She's loved. It's as simple as that." He cupped her elbow the same way he did for his secretary and escorted her toward room three-ten.

Alice Street gave her daughter's tall attorney an appraising sideways glance. How could any woman resist this man's looks and charm? For her daughter's sake she hoped he was sincere.

They entered Della's room and found Louise making notations on her chart. She smiled when she saw them. "She's much quieter now, thanks to you, Mr. Mason. But she has been asking for you. For _both_ of you," she ended pointedly.

Alice stood back toward the foot of the bed while Perry advanced and unzipped the side of the oxygen tent. He reached inside and gently stroked Della's hand. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"Hi precious girl," he said quietly. "Look who I found waiting outside." He motioned for Alice Street to stand by his side.

Della's gaze moved past Perry as she tried to focus on who was there. Upon recognizing her mother, tears brimmed in her eyes and she lifted her hand. Alice moved tentatively to Perry's side as he withdrew his hand, grasped Alice's and placed it in her daughter's. He took a few steps away and Della's eyes swung back to him.

"Not far. Don't go far."

"I'll just be down the hallway, baby. I think I'll find your brothers and get a cup of coffee while I'm at it." He wrapped his arm around Alice's shoulders. "Don't give your mother a hard time. She came an awful long way to see you."

"I'm glad," she said, weak fingers squeezing her mother's hand.

"Me too," he agreed.

Alice gazed at her thin, pale, but unbelievably beautiful daughter. "Me three," she quipped.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For several minutes mother and daughter held hands, words between them unnecessary as they reconnected with a simple touch.

"You scared everyone, little girl," Alice Street said brokenly.

" I scared myself," Della admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Jeez-o-pete, honey, what are you apologizing for? You can't help it if you're sick."

"I'm sorry about before."

"Your Mr. Mason explained everything. Don't fret about it." Alice patted her daughter's hand and hoped she sounded less brusque than she felt talking about that man.

Della locked eyes with her mother through the distorting plastic, more focused than they had been in four days. "He's a good man, Mom."

"I'm sure he is, dear, otherwise you wouldn't…you wouldn't…" Alice couldn't say it, couldn't verbalize the relationship her daughter maintained with Perry Mason.

"Love him?"

Alice flushed uncomfortably, then realized that if she couldn't speak honestly and frankly with her daughter, how could she expect Della to speak honestly and frankly with her? "You can't blame me for worrying, Della. He's a bit overwhelming. I hope you know what you're doing."

"He loves me," Della said contentedly, and coughed.

"I want to be honest with you, Della, but I don't want you to get mad at me."

"You don't like him."

Alice should have known Della would read her like the proverbial book. "Whether I like him or not isn't here nor there. He's just so…so _**volatile**_. And pushy. Is he always such a bully?"

Della laughed, which brought on a coughing fit. She wiped her mouth with a towel and rested her head against the pile of pillows keeping her upright and closed her eyes. "I'm happy, Mom. "

Alice looked furtively around the hospital room for Louise, and when she was satisfied that the nurse wasn't lurking anywhere near, leaned forward and unzipped the oxygen tent. She stroked her daughter's cheek with cool, soothing fingers. "Okay, honey. I'm happy you're happy. I'll admit I heard him singing to you and just before we came in to see you he told me some things that gave me a lot to think about."

Della tried to open her eyes but couldn't seem to. "A chance," she whispered weakly. "Give him…a chance.

Alice smiled at her daughter as she continued to stroke her cheek. "For you, little girl, I'll see what I can do. He has a lot of maternal prejudice to overcome," she warned.

"I love you, Mom."

Alice brushed tears from her eyes with Perry's fine handkerchief. "I love you, too, Della. Go to sleep. The next time you wake up we'll send in the boys."

Della sighed. "Too much," she said.

Alice Street smiled, understanding her daughter's cryptic comment perfectly. "Nothing is too much for you. Did you really think they wouldn't come?"

But Della was already asleep. Alice bent and kissed her forehead, and smoothed back messy curls one more time before re-zipping the oxygen tent and tucking it more securely beneath the mattress. Kathy had said if she continued to improve, Della could be out of the tent in a day or two. Then it wouldn't be long before she was released. Nothing would make Alice happier, even though she wasn't looking forward to fighting with that man about who was going to take care of her while she convalesced. He might very well be a brilliant attorney, but she doubted he had ever crossed paths with the likes of her. Or, maybe he had, she thought, smiling down at her daughter.


	20. Chapter 20

**Part 5.1 – Different Dreams**

Dr. Kathy Spencer was inordinately pleased at the progress Della had made since the frightening spontaneous evacuation of her lungs, and she looked forward to telling everyone that the oxygen tent would be going away and that Della would be transferred out of the C.C.U. soon. Della was alert, a bit crabby even, her breathing almost normal, her speech much improved as it became easier to take in sufficient air. Kathy made a few scribbles on the chart she was holding and glanced up at the little scuffle taking place at the head of the bed.

Della was using her newly restored powers of speech to harangue Louise and the new girl Joyce about the bath they were giving her, wanting to do everything herself. Kathy had to smile as she remembered the story Uncle Jim – Della's father – had told often about his daughter's first 'sentence'. "Della do it," she had said at only fourteen months of age, remarkably clear and purposeful. It was nice to know that some things never changed.

"We know Della can do it," Kathy said lightly, hanging the chart on the hook. "But until I say differently, you are a patient in this hospital and patients don't bathe themselves. Sit still and enjoy it."

Della stuck out her tongue. "Bossy as always," she retorted. She couldn't believe Kathy had remembered 'Della do it'. But then her father had told the story of her first sentence ad nauseam, along with a few other embarrassing stories.

Kathy laughed. "Look who's talking. I'll bet that when you raise an eyebrow, Jamie and Robbie still jump."

Della laughed and didn't cough. Kathy noted that with increasing satisfaction. "It works on Perry, too."

Kathy leaned against the hospital bed, arms folded. "Speaking of Mr. Mason, I've been wanting to tell you how much I like him."

"We all like him," Louise joined in, then blushed. "He's been very appreciative and courteous."

Louise and Joyce moved away from the bed, finally satisfied with their efforts to spiff up their patient. Clean sheets, a clean gown, clean hair, lotion applied from head to toe, Vaseline on cracked but healing lips. They gathered the soiled linens and exited the room.

Della gave a delayed laugh. "Appreciative and courteous?"

Kathy grinned. "I think the nurses have a terrible crush on him. He does have a way about him."

"Yes, he certainly does." Della suddenly felt awkward. Up to now she hadn't been alone with Kathy. How could she talk to her? What could she say to her former best friend, the friend she thought of as a sister, who at one time was supposed to be her sister? How could she talk to her after all the years of not talking to her, least of all talk to her about Perry?

Kathy was looking at Della with an unreadable expression. How could she talk to Della? They had been best friends, almost sisters, and then…nothing. Gregg's death had torn them all apart, but Della had turned inward in her grief, had run away from her and whatever comfort they could have given each other. It had hurt as much as losing Gregg.

The silence between them grew uncomfortable until Kathy made a decision to start over. "I'm so glad to see you again, String Bean."

"If you want me to act like I'm happy to see you," Della responded dryly, "don't call me String Bean, Tooter."

"Shhh! Don't say that so loud!" She grinned again. "At least I outgrew my nickname. How do you stay so thin?"

"It's called the pneumonia diet," Della reminded her. "I'm glad to see you, too."

"I'd never been so shocked in my life when I realized it was you lying in the emergency room. I didn't know you were living in California."

"The boys or my mother didn't tell you?"

Kathy eyed her shrewdly. "You've known all along we've kept in touch?"

Della smoothed the sheet across her hips to give her hands something to do. "Of course."

"I asked about you for a while, then it became too hurtful to hear about your life from the boys when I should have been hearing it directly from you."

"I know," Della said softly, almost too softly to be heard over the hiss of the oxygen tank. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Della, it wasn't your fault what happened to Gregg. None of us blamed you. It was a terrible accident."

"I know," she repeated. "I know it logically. But the heart isn't logical. You may not have blamed me, but I sure as hell blamed myself."

"Why didn't you talk to me? We could have helped each other."

Della gave a small laugh, almost a cough. "Because I had to do it my way. That shouldn't surprise you."

"I don't think it surprised anyone, except we never dreamed your way would be to completely shut us out."

"It was too much, Kath. Too much at one time. I'd never lost anyone before, not even a grandparent, and losing the two most important men in my life so close together…losing my past and my future…" she stopped talking and blinked back tears furiously. "There was no money and I couldn't go to college, and Dad's business partners mismanaged the business so I didn't even have that. When Robbie graduated, I had to get away. Aunt Mae had moved out here, so I begged her to let me stay with her. I got a job and made friends and felt almost normal again."

"When did you meet Perry?"

Della ran her hand under nose and sniffed. "Five-and-a-half years ago for the first time. Four-and-a-half years ago he hired me as his confidential secretary." She coughed.

Kathy grabbed a towel and passed it through the zippered opening of the oxygen tent. "All that time and you aren't married?"

Della's gave her a grateful look and coughed into the towel. "No."

"That's all you have to say?"

"That's all I'm going to say."

"Della, it's obvious he has very deep feelings for you, and you were impossible unless he was around. Please tell me you aren't still mourning Gregg."

"I will always mourn Gregg. I was supposed to be married to him."

Kathy searched her old friend's eyes for meaning to her words. "Are you really still carrying all that guilt? Della, from what I've seen, Perry loves you like I can only hope my husband loves me, and you won't marry him because you feel guilty that Gregg died?"

"Gregg was supposed to be my husband," Della said again, more fretfully than before. "I know I loved him. But I can't remember how it felt to love him."

Kathy sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Della, you need to talk to someone about this. I've only had one psych rotation, but even I can see you haven't completely dealt with Gregg's death. I can refer you to a psychologist in Los –"

"No! I – I don't need that. I'm happy. _**We're**_ happy, just the way things are."

"Della, this isn't even close to being fair to Perry. He deserves better. He's everything we could have wanted for you." She now realized she couldn't tell him about the conversation she had with Perry, how he had admitted his love for her, how she had told him about Gregg.

"Mom doesn't like him."

Kathy waved her hand. "She got a bad first impression. He was frantic and out of control, and I don't blame him."

Della shook her head. "She met him two years ago. I took him home for Thanksgiving."

"She just needs to get to know him better."

"I hope so. He's going to be around a long time."

"But you're not going to marry him?"

"For crying out loud, Kath, times are different. People don't have to get married."

"It sure makes things easier on the kids."

"Kids? Who said anything about kids?" Della's voice rose in startled agitation.

"You always wanted to be a mother. Four kids, remember? Two boys, Jonathan and Andrew; two girls Alison and Bethany. "

Della didn't say anything for long, quiet seconds, stunned that Kathy had remembered. "That was my dream with Gregg. I have different dreams now."

"That settles it," Kathy announced, getting to her feet, "I'm giving Perry the name of a good psychologist in Los Angeles. You need help."

Della's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare, Kathy! Perry doesn't know…oh my God, you didn't tell him about Gregg did you? _**Did**_ _**you**_?"

Kathy was spared answering by the arrival of the entire Street clan, boisterous from Louise's favorable report on Della's current condition.


	21. Chapter 21

**Part 5.2 – A Grandiose Gift **

Perry drove the now familiar route from the hospital to the house on East Carmelo Avenue, this time with Alice Street and Mae Kirby in the Cadillac, his nerves a bit on edge, determined to show Della's family the depth of his commitment to her. Della was definitely better this day, her breathing almost normal, her voice still croaky and congested but she spoke in full sentences now. Tart, sharp sentences that bothered him but seemed to escape her family. When they had burst into her room, Della and Kathy had been engaged in conversation, and it was apparent to him that it hadn't gone well between them. Della was uncharacteristically jumpy and grouchy, Kathy seemingly subdued and sad. She quickly excused herself without saying much to them, and he caught Della's searing gaze follow her from the room. All he could think was 'uh oh'.

After a lively visit of perhaps forty minutes, both Mae and Alice began to yawn from weariness and stress, and Jamie insisted that they get hotel rooms, some food, and plenty of sleep. Perry could take them while he and Robbie remained with Della, he proposed. Everyone thought it was a good plan, so Perry didn't protest, especially when Della gave him an encouraging smile. He felt pushed out and unnecessary now that she was better, unsure as to how much of their relationship she wanted him to reveal. When she had been mostly unconscious it had been easy to be himself and show his feelings. He knew if only half of what he had said and done got back to her there would be one hell of a conversation between them.

So since they were going to have a knock-down-drag-out-take-no-prisoners conversation anyway, he automatically steered the car in the direction of the house, making a decision without consulting her. He couldn't stand by and let the Streets pay money for hotel rooms when he had a house with four bedrooms, at which Martin should be this very moment outfitting for guests. Mae and Alice were too tired to notice that they were driving through residential neighborhoods and not the commercial area where there were many lovely hotels, until they reached the magic spot in the winding road.

Alice sat forward suddenly. "That house," she said, pointing out the windshield. "I've seen that house before."

Perry merely nodded, which Alice didn't see. He turned the car into the drive and could almost feel her excitement, the same as he had felt Della's just seven days ago.

"Is this a bed and breakfast?" Mae called from the back seat.

Perry brought the car to a stop and turned off the ignition. "Something like that," he said vaguely. There was a delivery truck parked in the circular drive, and Martin Hightower, the indispensable designer he had hired to manage the renovations and decorating, was standing on the porch with a clipboard, directing several men where to take the various pieces of furniture they were carrying.

"They must be remodeling," Mae observed.

Alice had said nothing since pointing out the house, and sat in silence while Perry walked behind the Cadillac and helped first Mae and then Alice from the car. She stared at the house in awe and confusion.

"Looks like the Martin house, doesn't it?" Perry asked with feigned innocence, taking the elbow of each sister and escorting them toward the front steps.

Alice's mouth gaped open and if he wasn't propelling her forward she might have stood stock-still in shock.

"Mr. Mason!" Martin Hightower hailed Perry excitedly from the porch steps. "I didn't expect you back until later." He held out his hand in greeting.

Perry accepted the exuberant handshake. "Martin, it's good to see you again. The ladies are tired and need to eat. Will we be in anyone's way if we head right back to the kitchen?"

Perry introduced Alice and Mae to Martin as they stood at the base of the stairs while the movers continued to take one piece of furniture after another into the house and up the stairs. Banging could be heard from upstairs as bed frames were no doubt being assembled and drawers put back in dressers.

Martin efficiently checked off items from a list clipped to the board in his hand. "Absolutely not Mr. Mason, go right on in. The men are almost finished, and will be leaving soon. I'll join you in a bit to go over everything."

Perry cut in between the men and ushered Mae and Alice into the house. Both women said nothing as he directed them to the back of the house, into the large airy kitchen. Then Alice turned on him.

"What is this, Mr. Mason?"

"It's a house," he replied, greatly enjoying her befuddlement.

"Don't be a smart ass. It's an almost exact replica of the Martin house in New Jersey. How is this possible?"

Perry shot a glance at Mae. It appeared that the sisters shared a salty tongue. "I'm sure I don't know, Mrs. Street. It's merely a coincidence in a long line of coincidences."

"This is where you brought Della," Mae said almost accusingly. "This is where you were staying when she got sick. Is this your house, Perry?"

"The deed is in the name of D. Paige Street. She lets me stay here."

Alice Street sat down hard in one of the kitchen chairs. "If I were a violent woman I would slap you Mr. Mason. Stop being such a wise acre and tell us what's going on here. Why is my daughter's name on the deed to this house?"

Perry pulled out a chair for Mae, ran water in the teakettle, lit a burner on the stove and put water on to boil. He took a seat at the table and smiled at the women. "Della's name is on the deed because I bought it for her. She told me about the Martin house and how much spending summers at the Jersey shore meant to her. I was in Carmel for a deposition and saw this house, so much like Della's description of the Martin house, and couldn't believe it. I wasn't even supposed to be in Carmel, but the witness in a case became incapacitated and I drove down to meet with him and his attorney at his summer home. I made a wrong turn, and there it was."

"It could be the same house," Alice Street confirmed. Her eyes held the same faraway look as her daughter's as she absorbed all the similarities in the house to that house in New Jersey. "Why did you buy this house in Della's name?" she asked again.

"Because," Perry began patiently, "Della gets homesick sometimes and I thought having a bit of her childhood would make her happy."

"She was homesick, so you bought her a house," Alice Street repeated under her breath. "Tell me, Mr. Mason, if we had spent time on Mackinac Island during the summers, would you have bought her an island?"

"If that would make her happy, yes."

Mae sat back in the chair, her arms stretched out in front of her. "I don't know about you, Alice, but I think Della is one very lucky young woman."

"Thank you, Mae," Perry said gratefully. "But what I give to her isn't half of what she gives to me."

"Are you always this…this…_**grandiose**_ in your gifts, Mr. Mason?" Alice Street demanded.

"Grandiose? Where did that word come from?" Mae chided her sister.

Perry dimpled deeply. Mae had joined forces with him finally. "Mrs. Street, I'm fully aware you don't approve of Della's personal involvement with me, but I want you to know that her happiness is my happiness, and I plan to spend the rest of my life keeping her happy. She won't be pleased with me for telling you this or for bringing you here, because I realize she guards our privacy even with you, but I think you deserve to know what's going on."

"A house will be hard to top. She went through a phase at fifteen and wanted to learn how to fly. Are you going to buy her an airplane next?"

Perry placed his hand over hers, which were clasped tightly together on the table top. "If she wanted to learn to fly I would arrange for flying lessons and encourage her all I could. And then I would buy her an airplane."

"Usually a man and a woman are married before he buys her a house," Alice pointed out, refusing to be mollified by or to laugh at his joke.

"That's something you'll have to discuss with Della," he replied smoothly. "I've already said and done enough to fuel a two-day discussion with her. Possibly three."

Mae's hand came down on top of Perry's. "Alice, I've been fortunate enough to spend quite a bit of time with Della and Perry –"

"You don't have to keep reminding me that I don't know anything about my daughter's life, Mae," Alice said in clipped, acidic tones.

"Alice, she didn't run away from _**you**_," Mae exclaimed in exasperation. "Stop making me the bad guy because I gave her a place to hide when she needed it. You're her mother and she loves you. But she knew this is exactly how you would react to her life out here, so she kept it to herself."

"You approve of her lifestyle? That she practically lives with this man without being married?"

Mae avoided Perry's eyes. "I didn't say I approve. But she's a grown up and has a right to live how she sees fit. She still needs you, Alice. She probably needs you more than she ever has, probably more than she realizes. Don't shut her out because you're too stubborn to open your eyes to what she sees."

Alice looked down at the pile of hands in front of her. Mae's small and square with short fingers, a competent hand like their mother's. Perry's was large and long-fingered, strong but gentle on hers. It was a quirk of fate that she had inherited their father's hands in a feminine form, well-proportioned and elegant, and even quirkier that her daughter had inherited them as well considering her husband's broad, stubby fingered hands. She heaved a sigh.

"Mr. Mason," she said, "after we have a very much needed cup of tea, would you be so kind as to show me around my daughter's house?"

Mae rolled her eyes. "Jeez-o-pete, Alice, call him by his name already, will you?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Part 5.3 – Racamoni and Cheese**

Martin was upstairs now, clipboard in hand, directing traffic for what seemed like an army of women in maid's uniforms who scurried from room to room with sheets and blankets and bedspreads and pillows. The delivery men were now carting small pieces of furniture as well as lamps and mirrors up the stairs.

"People!" he shouted above the din of banging hammers and buzzing undercurrent of chatter, "this is kindergarten color-coding. Yellow sheets go in the yellow bedroom, blue sheets go in the blue room, and green sheets go in the green room. Why do I see blue sheets in the yellow room?"

Alice Street was even more stunned by the upstairs, an almost exact replica of the Martin house. The bedrooms were different colors – the Martin's bedroom had been blue and Gregg's room had been red – but they appeared to be in the same location and roughly the same size as she recalled. Even the blue tile and claw foot tub in the big bathroom was the same. It was uncanny. She watched this man her daughter loved, trying to figure out why he went to such lengths to recreate a house from someone else's memory, and was struck anew by his appearance and overall demeanor. She found it easy to believe he was successful at his career and that his clients must feel very secure with him as their attorney. Della would most assuredly be attracted to his good looks, but what was it about him in particular that she found irresistible?

Perry had taken their luggage from the car and carried it up the stairs while Mae and Alice oohed and aahed over each room as they neared completion. The yellow room contained a double bed with an oak spindle headboard, two matching bedside tables upon which had been placed clear double ball crackle glass lamps with brass bases and silk shantung shades. A highboy chest and a dresser with an attached mirror were arranged on opposing walls, and a cane-bottomed oak captain's chair sat in the corner by the window, a yellow crocheted afghan draped over it for effect. Perry put Alice's suitcase in this bedroom on top of the soft white chenille bedspread.

Mae's suitcase he brought to the smallest room, which had been painted a soothing grass green. Perry liked this room, the cozy dimensions, the color, and how the white curtains made it look fresh and inviting. Mae would like this room, too. A plain Russel Wright Conant Ball twin bed, matching tall dresser and round lamp table in maple took up most of the space in the room. A Leviton tile lamp in green and white had been abandoned on the floor and he moved it to the table. He hefted Mae's suitcase to the bed and then wandered out into the hallway to find the ladies.

Perry poked his head into the blue room, which now contained two twin beds with whitewashed panel headboards and simple cedar blanket chests at the foot of each bed. A sturdy whitewashed bench separated the beds, and two hand-blown Blenko cobalt blue glass lamps were set in relief against the cornflower blue wall atop the bench. Cornflower, cobalt and white patchwork quilts were being shaken out and laid across the beds by one of the maids hired to put the house together quickly. This room Perry planned for Jamie and Robbie to stay when they needed to rest. Later, before heading back to the hospital, he would get their suitcases from the car and take them upstairs

Martin joined him in the blue room to excitedly bring Perry up to date on what he had arranged to be brought into the house. In addition to the bedroom furniture, Martin had found a breakfront to match the sideboard already in the room, as well as a chandelier that an electrician was installing at this very moment. He nearly jumped out his skin when telling Perry about the leather couch and chair he had selected for the little den off the dining room, and that he also planned to put in a desk, if Perry didn't think that would cause him to think about work too much. Perry assured him a desk would be fine, and that he had always wanted a den with leather furniture, and thanked him again for all he had done to make the house habitable in such a short time. Martin bustled out of the room, exceptionally pleased that his efforts were appreciated and approved of, grateful that someone like Mr. Mason had trusted him so implicitly. This house had been his biggest project to date, and he had designed it with details from a woman's childhood and a bit of information about the woman herself. He wished he could have met her before she became ill, if only to get a sense of what she liked best about what he had done to the house.

Perry continued down the hallway and found Mae and Alice in the yellow room. Mae was seated in the cane-bottomed chair wrapped in the afghan sipping tea, while Alice was moving between the bed and the dresser, swiftly and efficiently transferring clothing from her suitcase to the drawers. He stood in the doorway and watched the two women with an amused smile, seeing so much of Della in both of them.

Mae motioned him into the room as Alice quickly shoved a handful of undergarments into the drawer and slammed it shut. "Mae! I'm unpacking my unmentionables."

"Well, you just mentioned them," Mae retorted, "so if Perry didn't notice what you were doing, he certainly knows now."

Perry grinned. "I'll stay in the doorway, far away from the unmentionables, ladies. I just wanted to let you know that I'll have dinner ready in an hour. Also, the bathrooms have been outfitted with towels and soap and just about anything else you might need. Martin says everyone will be cleared out in a few minutes to work downstairs, so please make yourselves at home."

Mae took a sip of tea. "Alice already has. What room am I in?"

"I put your suitcase in the green room across the hall. Jamie and Rob will be in the blue room. I'll bring their luggage up later before I go back to the hospital. I'm afraid the telephone won't be working until tomorrow, so we can't call the hospital and check in on Della. Originally I hadn't wanted a telephone here, but recent events have changed my mind."

"You don't need to cook us dinner," Alice Street said a bit stiffly. "Mae and I can forage for ourselves."

"Take that stick out of your behind, Alice and let the man cook for us," Mae said tartly. "Thank you, Perry. I'm looking forward to a shower, changing, and eating a hot meal I didn't have to prepare. I'm sure by the time dinner is ready my sister will feel the same way."

Alice waited until Perry excused himself to turn on her sister with hands on hips. "I'm capable of speaking for myself, sister dear."

"Of course you are. Except right now you sound like you have to pass gas and can't, so I thought I'd spare the poor man words you'll say now but regret later." She got to her feet. "I've got dibs on the big bathroom."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Perry rummaged through the cabinets gathering what he would need to make dinner, laying everything out on the counter, and turned on the oven to preheat. He quickly grated a large brick of extra sharp cheddar cheese, another of Gruyere, and yet another of Pecorino Romano on wax paper. Then he filled a pot with water and put it on to boil, dropped a stick of butter in a large saucepan, cut crusts from a half dozen slices of bread, tore them to bits and threw them into a glass bowl. After the butter was melted, he drizzled a couple of tablespoons over the breadcrumbs and set the bowl aside. When the pot of water boiled he poured elbow macaroni into the roiling liquid, salted it, and stirred it. In a small saucepan he measured out milk and set it to warm while adding flour to the melted butter and whisking it smooth until it bubbled. He poured the heated milk gradually into the larger saucepan, whisking constantly until completely mixed, and then threw in nutmeg, black and cayenne pepper. He removed it from the flame, added most of the grated cheese, stirring briskly as it melted into a smooth sauce. The macaroni was cooked short of al dente, so he poured it into a colander, ran cold water to rinse off the starch residue, and dumped it back into the pot. He spooned the cheese sauce over the steaming pasta, folded it thoroughly, and transferred the mixture to a large speckled blue roasting pan. Next the reserved cheese was sprinkled over the top, then lastly the breadcrumbs.

Perry slid the heavy roasting pan into the oven with satisfaction, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He glanced at his watch to mark the time, moved to the cabinet designated for liquor and pulled out the bottle of bourbon. Eschewing a glass, he took two generous pulls directly from the bottle, replaced the cork, and was just about to put it back in the cabinet when he heard a cough in the doorway. Knowing it was Alice Street before turning around, he closed his eyes and heaved a resigned sigh.

"Is that private stock, or can a lady get a drink around here?"

He faced her with a smile. "As long as it's bourbon, scotch, or wine, you may have anything you'd like."

"I'd kill for that bourbon right now. Tall, with a splash of water, please. On the rocks, if you have ice."

"Do I have ice? It was the first thing I asked Martin to do when I called him to set up the house," he replied, taking a glass from another cabinet, opening the refrigerator, then the freezer compartment and removing an ice cube tray.

"At least you have your priorities straight, Mr. Mason." Alice moved to the table and sat down in the chair he had claimed as 'his'. "I'm assuming that you haven't owned this house very long."

He set her drink in front of her and took Della's chair. "I've actually owned it for several months. It needed a serious spiffing up, so I hired Martin to take care of everything. Della and I have been very busy and it was wearing on her. I had planned to bring her here for her birthday, but she needed to get away now." He sat back, pulled his cigarette case from his pocket, and offered it to her. She shook her head and even though he really wanted a cigarette, the look on her face made him set the slim case on the table in front of him. "I thought you would want to clean up before dinner," he remarked.

She took a healthy sip of her drink and eyed him over the rim of the glass. "I decided to listen to my sister and take the stick out of my butt," she told him.

"I believe Mae said 'behind', but I'm glad you removed it from wherever it was and came downstairs."

"I'll take a bath before bed. If I took one now I wouldn't make it through dinner. It smells delicious, by the way."

Perry nodded briefly. "'Racamoni' and cheese," he said with an amused twinkle.

"Oh, Della's actually told you about that!" she said brightly, referring to her daughter's childhood mispronunciation of 'macaroni'. She set her glass down on the table with sober deliberation. "You know my daughter very well, don't you?"

"As well as a man can know a woman." He smiled at his little attempt at humor.

Alice Street regarded him searchingly. "I've never known two people to be so tight-lipped about their feelings for one another. You're a bit more open about it than Della, but not much. She did admit that she loves you and is happy."

Perry picked up the cigarette case and flicked the mechanism that opened it, closed it, and then flicked the lever again. "I won't say I told you so."

Alice Street actually cracked a smile. "But you told me so."

Perry shrugged. "Mrs. Street, in doing what I do, I've become somewhat of a celebrity. I didn't seek it out; it just happened due to the notoriety of a few murder trials that went my way."

"From what I've read Mr. Mason, trials always go your way."

"That's what I mean. I've been fortunate to represent innocent clients and to work with people dedicated to providing the best defense possible. Now whenever I step into or out of a courtroom, or into or out of a restaurant, there are cameras present. Reporters are little more than vultures, circling to get something on me that no one else has managed to get, something explosive or exploitable that they can run back to their editors with. When Della and I first became involved, it was very important to her that our feelings remain ours alone so my professional reputation would be protected. Our relationship is unconventional, deeply thought out, and serious. She wouldn't have it any other way, and since I love her and want nothing but her happiness, I go along with it."

"But given your druthers you would be more public about your relationship?"

"Given my druthers, I would be married to your daughter, Mrs. Street."

Alice Street drained her drink in one gulp and set the glass back on the table. "I see. And she won't marry you, will she?"

He shook his head. "I've asked her more times than I can count. She says I'm not the marrying kind, that marriage would change us and therefore ultimately fail."

"Is she right, Mr. Mason?"

Perry shrugged and Alice thought she saw a longing or sadness or both in those startling blue eyes. "She **thinks** she's right Mrs. Street, and so far I haven't been able to convince her otherwise. Our relationship is the best thing I've ever experienced – except when it comes to that one topic. She won't even discuss the possibilities. She's built a wall I can't break through."

"Mr. Mason, exactly how much did Della tell you about those summers at the shore and her relationship with the young Martins?"

"She's spoken in general about how she loved it there and how they all got along. Kathy was the one who – she told me about Gregg Martin and Della."

Alice regarded Perry somewhat cautiously, noting how his eyes never changed expression. She was learning more about this man her daughter loved with each passing hour. She had promised Della she would try to be more accepting of him and their relationship and she was keeping that promise. He had opened his home – _**their**_ home – to her and Mae and she was beginning to see how truly kind and caring he was, not only with Della but with her and the rest of the family. She had a feeling Jamie and Robbie would be a harder sell but she knew if she made an effort they would as well, albeit grudgingly. It would be up to her to bridge the gap between how she and her sons felt Della should conduct her life and the way in which she actually conducted it. She made a decision and suddenly reached across the table, taking hold of Perry's hand. As the big man gave her a surprised but pleased look, she smiled and spoke in the same quiet, clear way as her daughter.

"I think it's time we were on a first name basis. After all Perry, we're family, are we not?"

A genuine smile crossed Perry's face. "We are indeed Alice, we are indeed."


	23. Chapter 23

**Part 5.4 – Boardwalk Memories**

_She followed Della out of Fralinger's into the mid-summer sunlight onto the boardwalk, a cool breeze coming off the ocean tickling suntanned skin and blowing newly trimmed strands of hair across their faces. That morning they had gone with their mothers to Armand's and been treated to the works – haircuts, manicures, and pedicures, and they both felt so sophisticated. Their mothers had wanted to have lunch at the Traymore Hotel's Chrystal Room, but they had politely declined, preferring to eat pizza slices from Mareno's and other sinful treats from the various boardwalk vendors. Girlish laughter usurped the grown-up activities of earlier as they exited the store famous for its salt water taffy, fudge, and 'paddles' – flat chocolate-covered caramel on a stick – clutching bags filled with sweet confections._

_Della popped a piece of taffy into her mouth and dreamily closed her eyes. "This is the absolute best thing I've ever eaten," she gushed. "You're so lucky, Kath. You get to eat this whenever you feel like it."_

_She shook her head, loving the way the shorter hair swept her shoulders. "No I don't. It's only because you're here and it's summer that I'm even on the boardwalk. You know my parents are as strict with me as yours are with you, being the only girl and the youngest. Oops, that reminds me. Aunt Alice wants you to buy some taffy and paddles to take back to Michigan for Aunt Mae and the Johnsons. Isn't Betsy Johnson the little neighbor girl who takes care of Eloise?"_

"_Yep. Only she isn't so little any more. She's almost twelve and a total doll. She comes over every day after school to play with Eloise because her dad is allergic to cats and she can't have one. Eloise loves her and falls over so Betsy can rub her tummy. Sometimes I think Eloise likes Betsy better than me, but then she gives me a big ole kitty rub and I know she still loves me best. Ooh, let's go into Tabar's. I want to get Betsy a stuffed kitty that looks like Eloise. And after that I want to go to the Planters Peanut store to get something for the boys, then to Dorfman's to get t-shirts and paperweights. On the way back we'll stop in at Fralinger's again for more candy."_

_She watched Della talk, her pretty face animated and alight with life as she spoke, noting the looks her friend got from all the boys on the boardwalk. She wasn't jealous, she couldn't be jealous, because Della had no idea of the effect she had on people with her shiny curls, big beautiful eyes, and slender gracefulness. She laughed. "We have plenty of time to get more candy. We're coming back Saturday to see the diving horse at Steel Pier with the boys, remember? We'll see the horse and then take a ride in the diving bell. I think Frank Sinatra will be performing somewhere. Do you remember my friend Shelli? She dances with Tony Grant, the local dance teacher, and they're going to be performing too."_

"_I love Frank Sinatra!" Della exclaimed. "And of course I remember Shelli. I'll be glad to see her again."_

_She linked her arm through Della's. "I also have a surprise for you. Heinz opened an exhibit in March on Massachusetts Avenue. A guide tells you the history of the company and there's a slide show. You can get soup and ketchup…and they have a pickle bin." She watched as Della's eyes widened and her jaw dropped._

"_Really?" Della questioned excitedly. "You wouldn't kid me, would you?"_

"_I'm not kidding," she laughed. "Cross my heart and hope to die, throw a mud pie in my eye. I wouldn't kid you about pickles, String Bean."_

_Della threw back her head, curls bouncing in the breeze. "There is nothing better than a whole pickle out of a bin full of brine."_

"_I guess we'll just have to go, then. We have to be home by five, though. Dad, Uncle Jim and the boys are in one of their fishing frenzies and left from Captain Starn's this morning to fish. We're supposed to go to Hackney's for dinner after they get back."_

_Della smiled. "That's Dad's favorite thing to do when he's here. He talks about going fishing with your dad and the boys from the time we get back until the instant we pull into your driveway the next year. I knew about dinner. Gregg told me if I was a good girl he'd get me a lobster from the tank and teach me how to eat it properly."_

"_Did you tell him you already know to crack a lobster?"_

"_Nope. I couldn't burst his bubble. He's really excited about showing me, and said we could split one because they're so big."_

_They continued strolling down the boardwalk, stuffing taffy into their mouths. Two college boys walked by and eyed them appreciatively. Della nudged her. _

"_See, what did I tell you? You look sensational! All the boys are looking at you. I love what Peter did to your hair. It's soooo cool the way it falls perfectly to your shoulders. And those bangs! I swear, Kath, you could be in an ad for Halo." Della sang bit of the catchy Halo Shampoo jingle. _"_Halo everybody, Halo. Halo is the shampoo that glorifies your hair._"

_She laughed. "It's not me they're looking at, silly. They're looking at all that curly hair and those gorgeous eyes of yours. No wonder Gregg is so gone on you."_

_Della all but dragged her to an empty bench, sat down and pulled her down next to her. "Kath, I have something to tell you but you have to pinkie swear that you won't tell anyone else until I say it's okay." Her low voice was trembling and her eyes sparkled like the sun on the ocean._

"_I've been wondering when you'd loosen up with whatever it was you were hiding from me. I've been dying for a week now. Spill it."_

_Della lowered her eyes shyly, the lifted them to stare out at the ocean. "I'm in love, Kath. Honestly and truly in love…with Gregg. It's crazy and the last thing I ever expected, but that day last week when no one was home but me, Gregg came home from playing basketball and…" she blushed and ducked her head, and when she continued, her voice was almost too low to hear. "I was on the porch and he came out to sit with me. We talked for a little while, then went down to the beach and talked some more. The only explanation I have is that I don't have an explanation. He admitted his feelings for me had changed last summer…I knew mine had, too, and this summer those feelings grew stronger. All I know is that I love him. I love him so much, Kath. We're getting married after I finish college and Gregg finishes grad school so he can teach at Michigan State, and I can work at Dad's firm, and we'll get an apartment, then buy a house and…and he wants four kids, two boys and two girls just like I've always dreamed…Kath, what's the matter? Why are you crying?"_

_With happy tears rolling down her cheeks, she flung her arms around her best friend and hugged her hard. "I'm not crying because anything's the matter, you nut. I'm crying because I'm so – soooo happy! You're my best friend, String Bean, and I've always wanted you to be my real sister, and now you're going to be! I'm so happy for you, and everyone else will be, too. I'll bet you a dress-up lunch at the Strand that they will."_

_Della sighed and hugged her back and laughed. "I feel like I'm in a dream and I don't want to wake up."_

"_Well, you'd better wake up for at least a little while so we can get going to make all those stops you want and get that pickle. It's two-thirty. That big lobster won't wait for us and neither will all those hungry men. Upsy-daisy. Let's get going, sister."_

"Dr. Spencer, it's time to get up."

Kathy opened her eyes and looked at Joyce's smiling face after the nurse had gently shaken her awake. For just a second she had thought she was back on the boardwalk in Atlantic City, but as the familiar sights and smells of the hospital invaded her senses she realized it had only been a pleasant memory, her exhausted mind escaping to a time and place she when had been young and carefree. She shook the last of the drowsy reminiscing from her head, cognizant of the fact she had been asleep for close to thirty minutes.

"Forgive me for waking you, Doctor, but I thought you'd want to know the good news. Miss Street's breathing is vastly improved and her coughing is bringing up less and less phlegm. I'd say it's nothing short of a miracle how much better she is in such a short period of time."

Kathy Martin Spencer stretched and smiled. "Joyce, if there's one thing I've learned this week it's that miracles really do happen." She swung her legs to the floor, arms raised and back arched in a rigorous stretch. "Are her brothers still with her?"

Joyce nodded. "They haven't left her alone for a second since Mr. Mason took her mother and aunt to get some rest." Joyce helped the young doctor to her feet. "Will Mr. Mason be coming back anytime soon?"

Kathy laughed. "Never fear, you'll be seeing a lot more of him."

Joyce blushed. "I thought I was being completely nonchalant with that question."

"It was an admirable effort, but I've noticed what an effect Mr. Mason has had on everyone around here. He's quite the handsome devil, isn't he?"

Joyce fell into step alongside Kathy as they exited the C.C.U. doctor's lounge and headed toward room three-ten. "I'll say," she agreed with feeling. "But it isn't just his looks, Dr. Spencer. It's everything about him all rolled together that makes him so attractive."

Kathy was quiet while she absorbed Joyce's words. The nurse had hit the nail on the head. While he certainly was undeniably physically attractive, it was Perry Mason's personality that drew the medical staff to him. He fairly reeked of authoritative confidence, which caused everyone to immediately trust him. That's why she was so surprised by Aunt Alice's reticence toward him. But then, she wasn't a mother confronted by the man with whom her daughter was conducting an intimate, adult relationship without the benefit of marriage. Her own mother would probably have reacted the same way, had she and David not been so successful at hiding their premarital relationship.

As they turned the corner of the hallway that would take them to the waiting area and Della's room just beyond, Kathy saw a familiar tall figure standing with feet planted wide apart and arms crossed over his chest as Jamie Street was apparently lecturing him, hands gesturing emphatically. Kathy put her hand on Joyce's arm.

"Spread the word, Nurse Jarvis. Mr. Mason has returned," she said quietly. Then she continued down the hallway, sharp words for Jamie already forming in her mind.


	24. Chapter 24

**Part 5.5 – Big Shot Attorney**

"Shouldn't she be awake more now?"

Kathy turned toward Perry from where she was checking the oxygen flow to the tent. She was quite pleased with Della's ability to breathe on her own whenever the nurses rolled back the plastic, and would leave instructions that it be removed entirely the next day. If Della did as well as she thought, she would have her moved from C.C.U. to a room on another floor. The C.C.U. nurses would be heartbroken, but a whole new contingency would be thrilled when they met the famous attorney.

"She'll be much more alert and have greater stamina tomorrow once she's completely weaned from the sedation," Kathy replied with doctor-like efficiency.

"When did you sedate her?" Perry asked in alarm. "I thought you weren't going to."

Kathy made a little face. "Dr. Moultrie ordered a sedative while I was off duty. I removed it from her orders after she expelled the infection. As uncomfortable as she was afterward, she wanted to be able to talk to you and Aunt Alice."

Perry shook his head with slight exasperation. "She doesn't even like to take an aspirin. She battles headaches with tea, a bath, and a nap."

"That's because aspirin upsets her stomach," Kathy said with familiar matter-of-factness. "I remember once Aunt Alice gave her two aspirins for a sunburn and she spent hours doubled over, holding her stomach and crying. We were all so scared because Della was never sick, and she never complained, not even when she stepped on a rusty nail and had to have a tetanus shot. Tetanus shots are usually worse than the original injury, but she didn't shed a single tear, not even when she couldn't use her arm for three days."

Perry rubbed his jaw tiredly. "I depend on her too much. We'd been working on one case after another for weeks, and she was always right by my side. I tried to make sure she ate and rested, but she'd get upset with me and because I'm selfish and want her with me all the time, I let her have her way. I blame myself for her pneumonia and for not insisting that she see our doctor before we left Los Angeles."

Kathy patted his arm. "It's not your fault, Perry. Della would never admit she couldn't keep up with you. She was always trying to prove to the boys she could do whatever they could, and much to their humiliation she usually did it better."

He smiled briefly, eyes still taking in the visage of Della peacefully sleeping propped up on the pile of pillows. "Maybe you could remind her brothers of that particular personality trait."

"Are they giving you a hard time about being responsible for her illness?" Kathy put her hands on her hips. "I've tried to keep quiet, but I'll be more than happy to set those two dense, overprotective clods straight. They wisely ran away earlier so I couldn't give them a piece of my mind. "

"No, this is something I'll have to handle on my own," he said with a resigned sigh. "You know, every day I deal with some of the most difficult personalities you could imagine, but I'm floundering when it comes to Della's family. They took an immediate dislike to me when we spent Thanksgiving in Michigan a couple years ago. I don't have much of a family to speak of, and her family scares the bejeebers out of me."

"Aunt Mae likes you, and I think Aunt Alice is warming up to you. Jamie and Robbie will follow her lead." Kathy tried to be reassuring.

"Alice and I are on a first name basis," he admitted. "I don't know what it was that finally pierced her armor. Could be that I cooked her dinner, or that I bought Della a house, or that I let her kill a bottle of bourbon without telling her sister."

Kathy chuckled. "Aunt Alice does like her whiskey. I'm glad you're getting along. Della will be happy too."

"I certainly am," Della croaked from her isolating tent.

Perry laughed and patted her leg. "How long have you been eavesdropping, Miss Street? You look wonderful, baby."

"You have very low standards, Mr. Mason," she retorted. "I'm a virtual skeleton, my hair is a fright, my lip has a split in it the size of the Grand Canyon, and I'm covered with greasy lotion."

"If it'll make you feel better, String Bean," Kathy said, "you'll be able to take a real shower once I send orders to have you moved out of C.C.U."

Perry's eyebrows shot up in startled surprise. "String Bean?"

Della cut him a silencing glance. "Later," she told him, more interested in what Kathy had just said than in explaining her childhood nickname. "When am I getting sprung from this joint?"

Kathy could barely contain a smile as Della's eyes burned into hers. Obviously she hadn't told Perry about her nickname, either. "I should think you'll be in a private room tomorrow night."

"I ate all my dinner tonight. Can I get out tomorrow morning?"

"Don't tell stories, Del. You did not eat all your dinner," Kathy said brusquely, tucking the plastic of the tent beneath the mattress more snugly. "I reduced the oxygen again. I'm off duty tomorrow, but I'll call Dr. Moultrie to discuss how you're doing and we'll decide then when you'll be moved."

"When will you call?"

"Patience is a virtue, Del. I'll call during noon recess. My husband has a trial tomorrow and I want to sit in the gallery and give him moral support."

Perry's attention was diverted from looking lovingly at a much healthier Della and he glanced up at Kathy. "What's that you said?"

"I said my husband is in court tomorrow. He's an attorney. I haven't seen him awake or in daylight since you carried Della into my life again, and we keep missing each other on the phone. I'm going to surprise him in court tomorrow."

Perry was grinning. "Why did I not make the connection sooner," he said, shaking his head. "Your husband is David Spencer, junior partner at Irwin, Marsh."

"That's right. How do you know that?"

His grin widened. "Because I met your husband seven months ago, Dr. Spencer. I was on my way to meet your husband and his client for a deposition when I made a wrong turn and stumbled across the house on East Carmelo Avenue."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're the big shot Los Angeles attorney he was so nervous about meeting? The stinker never mentioned your name. I had been at the hospital for six days straight and he went up north on a fishing trip the day after the deposition. When he got back we had other things to discuss."

"Oh, you and David have to come to the house!" Della exclaimed excitedly and began to cough. Kathy made a move toward her but Della waved her away as she gained control of her breath. "Perry will cook dinner and we'll sit out on the porch and talk like we used to."

Kathy laughed. "Perry will cook? Della, you haven't learned to cook yet?"

"I've mastered salads," Della defended herself. "I figure why should I learn to cook when Perry does it so well? Plus, there are literally _**thousands**_ of restaurants in Los Angeles and I'm determined to try them all."

"Don't listen to her," Perry told Kathy. "She can scramble eggs quite competently, too."

Della beamed at him. "Thank you, darling."

Kathy laughed and started for the door. "Then I'll look forward to a dinner of salad and competently scrambled eggs. I've got rounds to make and charts to update before I can go home and snuggle with my sound asleep husband."

Della turned to Perry and regarded him appraisingly once the door closed behind her old friend. "You look better than the last time I saw you," she drawled, "but you still look like hell."

"I'm going to get a complex if people keep telling me how terrible I look."

"Did you sleep at all?"

Perry made himself as comfortable as possible in the bedside chair. "I most certainly did. I'll have you know I slept almost five hours."

Della continued to look at him with a concerned expression on her face. "I'm sorry to cause you such worry," she croaked softly.

"Della, don't apologize for being sick. If anything, I should apologize to you for not being more insistent that you see Dr. Sadler before we left L.A."

"I wouldn't have gone. I knew I was sick, but I didn't want to put a damper on our weekend."

"Have you told your brothers this? Because they would like nothing better than to beat me up right now."

She coughed as she laughed. "You could take them," she assured him. "Speaking of taking them…would you take them home and make sure everyone gets a good night's sleep? They're beginning to look as tired as you."

He crossed his arms and eyed her shrewdly. "You're assuming I took your mother and Mae to the house."

"I'm not assuming anything. I know without a doubt you wouldn't allow them to stay at a hotel."

"And you're okay with it?"

"The cat's out of the bag now," she said with a shrug. "I never should have kept the true nature of our relationship from my mother, but I knew she wouldn't be as accepting as Aunt Mae."

"Mae disapproves as much as your mother, darling."

Della smiled and reached out to him. Perry unzipped the tent and took her hand. "She disapproves, but she accepts us. She's fallen prey to your charms, Mr. Mason, and as long as you continue to make me happy, Aunt Mae will be our biggest champion."

"That's a pretty tall order," he said softly teasing. "Sometimes you're hard to please."

She squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you and Mom are on speaking terms."

"She calls me by first name and everything."

"All the more reason you should take Jamie and Robbie home and spend a quiet night resting."

"I can't leave you alone," he protested.

"Yes, you can. Go home and come back at a decent hour tomorrow morning. Please, Perry."

He sighed. "You just want to be alone with Dr. Moultrie," he charged.

She laughed without coughing. "That's right. He and I have a hot date at midnight."

"Are you sure you don't want anyone to stay tonight?"

She shook her head. "I want to sleep. If anyone was here, I'd feel obligated to stay awake."

"I guess it's good that you're choosing when to sleep, but I've hardly seen you today. All right, my love, I'll do as you ask. It just so happens we have enough beds for everyone now. Martin outdid himself putting together the bedrooms today."

"I really can't wait to meet him."

"And he's dying to meet you as well. Okay, I'm going to round up Jamie and Rob and deliver your orders. Let me unzip this darn tent…" He ran the zipper up and poked his head inside. "Kiss me quick before Cynthia or Louise or whoever is your nurse tonight busts in here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Perry found Della's brothers in the cafeteria smoking and drinking coffee, heads bowed in exhaustion. They lifted their heads simultaneously and eyed him suspiciously as he approached them. Accepting their sister's edict that they all get a good night's sleep and leave her alone to sleep as well with cranky resignation, the brothers followed Perry from the hospital to the parking lot without saying much.

Jamie took the shotgun position, offering stiff complimentary comments about the Cadillac, then virtual silence fell again between the three men until Perry nosed the car through the gate and the house became visible to Robbie.

"Good grief, James," he said incredulously, "it's the Martin house, right down to the color of the siding."

Jamie Street glared at Perry Mason. "What's going on here, Mr. Mason? Why did you bring us to a house? I thought we were going to the hotel you and Della were staying at."

Perry pulled the car to a stop in front of the house and killed the engine. "Della and I weren't at a hotel. We were here. There's no need for you to get a hotel room when I have a house with four bedrooms," he replied with practical bluntness. "Well, it's Della's house. Actually, it's _**our**_ house."

Jamie and Robbie Street stood almost shoulder-to-shoulder and stared at the house with mouths agape, much like their mother and aunt had done earlier that day. "Did you secretly marry our sister, Mr. Mason?" Robbie asked after a few seconds.

Perry shook his head. "No, we aren't married."

"I don't understand, then. Why do you have a house that is almost identical to the one we spent our summers at when we were kids?"

"I found it by accident," Perry admitted. "Della had spoken of the Martin house many times and when I saw this house, I knew I had to buy it for her."

Jamie leveled narrowed eyes at the attorney his sister worked for and with whom she obviously maintained an intimate personal relationship. His black eye was less swollen and already turning a garish shade of green as the purple bruising subsided. "You bought Della a house," he stated flatly.

Perry started up the steps. As his feet landed on the smooth boards of the porch, he turned to face the brothers. "I bought _**us**_ a house," he corrected pointedly. "But I put it in Della's name."

Jamie and Robbie followed him up the stairs and stood behind him as he fitted the key in the lock and swung the front door inward, stepping back so that they might precede him into the house. He stood in the doorway as the brothers took in the layout and furnishings of the house, amazed and befuddled by the similarities to the Martin home.

"Is that you, Perry?" Alice Street called from the top of the stairs.

"Yes, Alice," he answered. "Della kicked us out because she said we keep her up and she wants a good night's sleep."

"Oh, Jamie and Robbie are with you!" She ran lightly down the stairs and toward her sons, who both enclosed her in affectionate bear hugs. "I can see why your sister sent you away," she observed, brushing lank hair from Robbie's forehead. "You two need a shower and something decent to eat. I'll heat up the leftovers from dinner…"

"No, Alice," Perry said firmly. "You're going back upstairs to bed. I'll fix something for Jamie and Robbie to eat, and then I'll show them to their room. We have some man-talk to finish."

"We aren't fit company for a lady," Jamie added, kissing his mother's cheek. "We'll see you in the morning, Mom."

Alice shifted her eyes from each of her son's to those of the man who in her sense of propriety should be her son-in-law. "Don't stay up too late," she cautioned, "or I'll come down and drag you upstairs myself. You may be grown men, but I'm still your mother and you'll do as I say."

The three men watched her climb back up the stairs, and Perry was struck again by how much Della favored her mother. He ushered Jamie and Robbie into the kitchen, pointing out the dining room and sun porch on the way. Both brothers came to a dead halt as they took in the cheery blue and white kitchen.

"It's uncanny," Jamie said, in awe of his surroundings.

"So I've been told." Perry indicated the table. "Sit down. We have scotch, bourbon, wine, coffee, or tea. Wait, the bourbon is gone."

Jamie grinned. "Mom got into the bourbon, eh?"

Perry smiled ruefully. "Someone could have warned me about your mother's love of bourbon," he complained good-naturedly. "Name your poison."

"Scotch," Robbie answered for both of them. "I'll tend bar if you'll make good on your promise to feed us. That hospital's food wasn't fit for human consumption."

Perry crossed to the refrigerator, opened the door and pulled out a covered casserole in which Mae had put the remains of the macaroni and cheese, a bowl containing green beans amandine, and a package of hot dogs. He pulled two frying pans from the cabinet next to the stove and dumped the lump of pasta into the larger pan with a loud 'plop'.

"We had sandwiches made with something that may have been meat and soup that wasn't much more than water that had been briefly introduced to a chicken bone. What's that you're heating up?" Jamie inquired, trying to see what Perry was doing.

"Racamoni and cheese." Perry reached down and pulled a saucepan from the cabinet, into which he poured the beans. He then quickly sliced four hot dogs down their centers and placed them in the smaller frying pan.

"Della will kill Mom for telling you that," Jamie commented. "She was a funny kid. Dad used to tell anyone who would listen about all the things she said.

"Della told me," Perry said casually as he turned on the gas beneath each pan. "It's her favorite meal."

Robbie handed Perry a stiff scotch and water before sitting down at the table. He exchanged glances with his older brother. "Did she tell you why they build houses outdoors?"

"Where else would they build them?" Perry shot back, perfectly aware that at four Della had asked her father '_Daddy, why do they build houses outdoors_?'

"And do you know why cows poopie so big?" Jamie raised one eyebrow. Ah, it must be a hereditary trait of the Street's.

That question Della had asked her mother in front of their minister's wife when she was three. "Have you seen what they eat?" Perry deadpanned.

Jamie lit a cigarette, leaned back in the chair and regarded the Perry Mason contemplatively. "I can't believe she told you those things."

"Della and I talk a lot," Perry said evasively.

"But she hated it when Dad told those stories. Why would she tell you?"

Perry shrugged and broke up the lump of macaroni in the pan with a wooden spoon, his back to the brothers.

Jamie picked up the highball his brother had set in front of him and took a healthy sip. "You love my sister, don't you?"

Perry turned and met the eyes that were so much like Della's. "More than anything," he said simply.


	25. Chapter 25

**Part 6.1 – The Best Shower Ever**

Kathy kept her word, and shortly after noon Dr. Moultrie and his permanently sour expression entered room three-ten and announced that he and Dr. Spencer had 'conferred' and that Della would be moved to the fifth floor for the remainder of her recovery. Every member of her family, including Perry, were in the room at the time, and there was such an eruption of celebration that nurses rushed in, frantically waving their hands and shushing the noise.

Perry had been holding Della's hand during the Doctor's announcement, and continued to do so as her mother, aunt, and brothers pelted the taciturn doctor with questions. He smiled down at her. "I think Kathy regularly walks all over that man's back."

"She's always had a take-charge attitude," Della confirmed with a grin. She was so darned happy to be out of the oxygen tent she couldn't stop grinning. Knowing that she would be leaving the C.C.U. soon elevated her happy mood to ecstatic.

"You two must have been something else together."

"We cut a pretty wide swathe," she admitted. "The boys knew they couldn't easily win an argument with us."

"And that holds true to this day."

"You win plenty of arguments, darling."

"In court," he retorted, and kissed her hand.

Her mother broke away from the little gathering around the doctor and nurse Cynthia and approached them. "Della, honey, you're getting out of here! Cynthia thinks there will be a room available by two o'clock. Isn't that wonderful?" She reached out and brushed her hand over her daughter's cheek. Then she looked up guiltily at Perry. "I told them we wanted a private room. That's all right, isn't it?"

Perry smiled. "It's perfectly all right. I would have insisted on a private room as well."

Alice moved her eyes from his to Della's and back again. "What have you two been whispering about?"

"We were arguing about arguing. I lost." Perry's eyes twinkled.

"I should certainly think so." Alice's eyes twinkled right back at him.

Della wriggled to get comfortable against the six pillows that propped her into a sitting position. It did her recovery good to see her mother and Perry getting along. She even sensed a change in the way her brothers treated him. There had been a couple of references to dinner and drinks in the kitchen and a disapproving comment from her mother about how late the men had stayed up the night before, but it was all good-natured and just another reason for her to be happy this day. She wished Kathy could be here instead of the unsmiling Dr. Moultrie, or 'Dr. Moldy' as Mae had dubbed him, but she understood her friend had to attend to her marriage whenever possible. The first new case Perry had handled after hiring her was for a senior resident at Cedars-Sinai named Christopher Sadler, and the hours he described spent at the hospital were brutal. He was their friend and doctor to this day after Perry secured the return of family heirlooms his fed-up wife had removed from their home, in effect holding them for ransom during their divorce action. Della would hate to see Kathy's marriage come to a similar end.

The next few hours were a blur of preparations to move Della from the C.C.U. ward to a private room with a western exposure because Della preferred sunsets over sunrises, Mae pointed out, and Jamie and Robbie made long-distance collect calls to their wives with the good news. Jamie's wife Rachel was expecting their fourth child, Alice's seventh grandchild, and this pregnancy had been more troublesome than the previous three. Alice insisted upon staying for the duration of Della's recovery, and since both Jamie and Robbie owned their own businesses and could be absent without using up allotted vacation days, and Rachel insisted she was fine and that Jamie should stay a few more days, it was settled: the house on East Carmelo Avenue would be full to capacity. Alice and Mae made out a grocery list to stock the kitchen for the coming week, planning out meals and putting together a schedule of nearly round-the-clock care for Della, while Jamie and Robbie listed handiwork and chores they would tackle around the house.

Perry made a personal note to buy more bourbon.

Della merely smiled and squeezed his hand every so often. She had spent the greater portion of her life enveloped in a practical take-charge, planned out atmosphere, where stoicism and devotion to family ruled, but she knew what was going on before his eyes was foreign to him and made him uncomfortable. He had for so long been a loner without close family ties, doing what he pleased in the moment. Since meeting her, his life had stabilized, but he still chafed at conventionality and routine. Since meeting him, her life had been thrown into disarray, and she had learned that spontaneity could be quite thrilling if surrounded by order. Their differences complemented each other, rounding out personalities that had been in danger of leaning too far in one direction.

By two-thirty, Della had been transported via wheelchair to the fifth floor, coincidentally to room five-ten. The wheelchair initially offended her because she was anxious to walk, but after being helped from the bed and realizing her legs, weakened by days of lying in bed and the quick, severe weight loss, could not support her, she allowed Joe the orderly to wheel her from the room. Her scowl was mostly for show, because she didn't want anyone to see how upset she was by her body's weakness. The only good thing about her legs collapsing beneath her was that Perry had caught her in a longed-for embrace.

By four o'clock, Della was completely settled and a parade of nurses and technicians who had stopped by to introduce themselves to her (as well as to meet the much gossiped about Perry Mason), had drifted away. Della's eyes were droopy and she began to yawn, so Perry handed his car keys and money to Robbie, insisting that they all go to the grocery store and then back to the house. He would stay with Della for a bit longer and then take a taxi home when Della fell asleep. Agreeing that dinner would be at seven o'clock, Della's family one-by-one kissed her good-bye and trouped from the sunny hospital room.

Della heaved a sigh of relief and Perry shot her an amused look. "I'm glad you did that," he said. "I didn't know if I should or not."

"They're wonderful, but they wear me out," she told him through a big yawn.

He settled himself on the edge of her bed and placed his hand on her forearm gently. "I've often said the same about you."

"But I wear you out in different ways," she replied wickedly.

Perry laughed. "Yes, my dear, you do." His hand moved from her forearm to her hand and pulled her toward him. She eagerly melted against his chest, sighing once again. Then she suddenly straightened and pushed away from him.

"I'm disgusting," she announced. "I haven't had a real bath in five days."

"You are a bit greasy. I thought you might slide right through my arms when your legs gave out."

She wrinkled her nose. "You didn't have to say _**that**_," she complained. "I wonder when the nurses will come back and help me take a shower. Hand me the call button, will you?"

A gleam found its way into his eyes. "We don't need the nurses," he told her quietly.

Her eyes, large and round, stared at him. "What are you thinking, Mr. Mason?"

Perry pulled down her covers, slid his arms behind her back and beneath her legs, and lifted her slight weight effortlessly. "I'm thinking that I have the most experience in giving you showers, so it's only right that I should be the one to give you one now."

"No," she protested, a deep flush flooding over her face. "I'm so ugly…I don't…Perry, please, I don't want you to see me now."

Perry gently set her down on the shower chair in the bathroom that was aqua ceramic tile from floor to ceiling. A showerhead with a flexible metal hose was clipped to the wall above a drain in the floor. He squatted in front of her, hands on her knees. "Della, my precious girl, you could never be anything but beautiful to me." His voice was tender but firm, his eyes adoring as they caught and held her gaze. "Let's get you out of this awful hospital gown and wash off all the slimy glop they put on you."

Della felt a single tear slide down her cheek. "Well, when you put it that way…" She allowed him to untie the hideous gown but not to remove it as she directed him to take off his shirt, shoes and socks and to roll up his pant legs first. He reveled in her bossiness, the practicality she had not so long ago lamented in her family emerging full-force. When she was satisfied with his preparations, he turned on the water and tested it, raising his eyebrows in question. She nodded, and pulled the gown from her body.

Perry, who thought he had prepared himself for her thinness, nearly gasped. But he knew if he made any shocked sound, gave her any sad or sympathetic look, or God forbid said anything outright about her appearance, she would close into herself immediately. Naturally svelte, Della didn't have much spare weight to lose, and her illness had taken every ounce she had and then some. Her skin stretched across bones that he knew existed in the human body, but weren't meant to be seen so starkly. He could tell she was self-conscious and distraught, and decided that the shower should be conducted in silence.

As the warm water sluiced over her shoulders and Perry's gentle hands carefully massaged soap onto her illness-ravaged body, Della closed her eyes. She had known it would be shocking to see her skeletal frame, as she had felt her frailty intensely since regaining coherence, but the reality was much worse than her imaginings. She also knew from the look in Perry's eyes that he didn't care about her appearance. He wanted her to be comfortable and would make sure that she was. Della didn't think it was possible to love him more than she already did, but seeing him like this, shirtless, pants rolled up to his knees, eyes intensely blue with his own feelings for her, she knew she was wrong, that she was capable of a love so deep her every breath depended on it.

Perry took his time soaping her, massaging her sore and weakened body, his hands gentle as butterfly wings on her translucent skin. Her physical fragility made him want to cry, but the strength of her will, the depth of her character held back any tears that threatened. As strong as she was, she would crumble if he did, and that couldn't happen. His hands massaged her scalp and she moaned with pleasure as he washed away the powdered hospital shampoo along with the memory of the past five days.

As he dried her, she placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him sweetly. He had never received a more deeply felt thank you in his life. They stared at each other for a long time, then Della shivered and he resumed his task quickly. No having given much thought to what she would wear once her shower was completed, Perry was relieved to find a thin white terry cloth robe hanging on a hook behind the door. It was large and wrapped around Della nearly twice, and he joked about not being able to find her in it, but it would do until tomorrow when he would bring her own flannel nightie and robe because he never again wanted to see her in a hospital gown. He re-dressed himself quickly, pleased that he wasn't too wet from splashed water.

She didn't protest when he lifted her and carried her from the bathroom, and sighed with contentment as he seated himself in the bedside recliner and cradled her in his lap. She battled weariness for several minutes, then gave up and closed her eyes, her breathing becoming even, but still rattling in her chest. He finger combed her damp curls idly, nearly delirious to be holding her in his arms again. It was this scene that greeted the nurse assigned to her for the night as she bustled in to check on the patient. Stories about this couple had preceded them, and to her credit, Elise Franklin hardly let her surprise show.

"I see you've made my job a bit easier," she whispered to Perry, with a smile.

"She was uncomfortable," he whispered back. "I didn't want to bother anyone…she doesn't have to put on another gown does she? She doesn't like them, and frankly, neither do I. I'll bring her own things tomorrow, but can she wear this robe until then?"

Elise nodded. "I think we can allow that if she's more comfortable. This stage of her recuperation is about comfort and rest."

"Good," Perry said with a satisfied nod of his own head. He had liked every nurse in the hospital and thought that a donation to their next fund drive would be appropriate and much appreciated.

"However," Elise continued with a slight edge of sternness, "She'll have to be woken up in about an hour for dinner. If she wants to get out of here as quickly as I think she does, she'll have to eat."

Perry grinned and Elise went weak in the knees at the sight of his dimples. In her opinion hospital gossip hadn't done the man's appearance nearly enough justice. "Oh, she'll eat," he laughed. "You might want to bring two meals."


	26. Chapter 26

**Part 6.2 – Leaps and Bounds**

Della was rosy-cheeked and in feisty spirits the first morning awakening in her new surroundings. Perry had packed her own nightie and robe, as well as a new gown and slippers her mother and aunt had bought in a tote they had also purchased, on top of a stuffed grey and black striped stuffed cat her brothers had picked out for her in the hospital gift shop. When she saw the toy she let out a squeal of '_Eloise_' and Perry stuck his fingers in his ears. He had never heard such a girlish noise from her and while it surprised him, he understood her excitement. She talked often about the little cat that had lived to be twenty years old, the only pet she had ever known as a child. After Eloise passed she headed for California to find a new life and bury her grief for her father, for Gregg, and a sweet kitty that had loved her above all others in the family. Perry would like to give her a kitten, and she would be thrilled, but their life was too unpredictable to bring an animal into.

In her own pajamas, which Perry slipped and called 'jammies' in front of Alice, who laughed hysterically, Della improved by leaps and bounds almost hour by hour. Kathy returned to duty the day after Della's move from the C.C.U., and visited her as often as she could. Her recovery was under the care of new physicians, both of whom were an enormous improvement over Dr. Moultrie.

At the house, everyone settled into a familial routine of waking, eating, heading to the hospital, returning for dinner and either chatting or playing cards after dinner and then retiring to their nicely appointed rooms. Perry learned that Alice held cigarettes in contempt, and he and her sons spent quite a bit of time on either porch smoking and talking about fishing. They made plans for him and Della to visit during the summer when they could take a trip to the Big Lake for some deep freshwater fishing. Perry began to think that having a family wasn't so bad after all and while Alice Street was barely old enough to be his mother, she behaved more like a mother to him than had his own, and he discovered a great affection for her blossoming.

On day nine of Della's hospital stay, Kathy showed up early in the morning with a big grin on her face. She wanted to be the one to give them the best news of all: Della was being released that afternoon. Della shook with excitement as she dressed in the one skirt she had brought with her, and her mother had to help her button the soft cashmere sweater Alice suspected had been purchased by Perry, along with a few pieces of scandalous lingerie she had discovered while putting away clean clothes. Della insisted upon saying goodbye to the nurses in the C.C.U. ward as well as in the emergency room, and Joe the orderly, who had been located and drafted into wheelchair duty once again, pushed her around the hospital as she bade everyone farewell.

Perry could see that she was ready to leap from her skin with excitement to get home, and as he pulled the Cadillac up to the emergency room doors, she sprang from the wheelchair, flung her arms around a surprised but delighted Joe, and fairly danced toward the car. Perry laughed as her brothers assigned her to the middle of the seat between them over the 'hump' of the drive shaft just as when they were children. Mae and Alice crowded into the front seat with him, and they were off. As he drove through the streets of Carmel toward their house, Perry glanced often in the rearview mirror at the woman who held his heart as she teased and bantered with her brothers.

It was probably the happiest day of his life.

And then they were home and it all went to hell.

Mae and Alice took over everything, relegating him to insignificant tasks that had no bearing on Della's care. Out of respect for the two older women, he said nothing, accepting their directions with quiet acquiescence. He tried to find time alone with her, but there was always someone near her, fussing over her, caring for her. He wanted to care for her, wanted to fuss over her, but the most he could manage was an occasional agreeing 'harrumph' when Mae or Alice required bolstering for their intentions. Della sensed his frustration, and experienced quite a bit herself. She had envisioned her homecoming quite differently, and quite frankly, it had been in bed wrapped in Perry's arms. As the afternoon bled into evening and plans for a celebratory dinner came together, it became obvious that Alice expected Della to sleep alone in the master bedroom, while Perry was relegated to sleeping in the den. Della watched him move about the house doing the bidding of her mother and aunt, preparing the steaks they had picked up on the way home from the hospital with uncharacteristic moroseness, and she knew he had envisioned her homecoming much differently as well.

Clean-up duty was assigned to the men while Alice and Mae took Della upstairs for a bath. Perry could hear her protests all the way up the stairs and smiled to himself. He heard a door shut firmly, and his smile widened, certain that Della's fearsome independence had surfaced and she had pushed her mother and aunt from the bathroom and was currently preparing to bathe herself in solitude.

Perry, Jamie, and Robbie were in the dining room playing a brand-new game called Yahtzee when Alice, Mae, and Della joined them. Della smelled divine, the acrid, antiseptic odor of the hospital replaced by her favorite Sweetheart soap, curls damp and clinging to her perfect, bare skin. Perry couldn't take his eyes off her as she seated herself next to him and proceeded to beat everyone handily at the dice game. At ten o'clock she yawned, and her mother declared game time over and bed time eminent. Of course she protested, looking to Perry for support, but he merely grunted in agreement with her mother that she had had enough excitement for the day and should go to bed. Almost defiantly she leaned over and kissed him full on the lips, pushed back her chair, and stalked from the room. After a moment Alice arose and followed her daughter, mumbling that someone should probably make sure she actually went to bed for Heaven's sake, while Jamie and Robbie pointedly ignored what had just transpired. Perry scraped back his chair, got to his feet, and disappeared into the kitchen, where he poured himself three fingers of bourbon, drank it in one gulp, and lit a cigarette, because it was his house, dammit. When he rejoined everyone in the dining room, Alice had returned from checking on Della, and she gave him a thinly veiled look of disgust, knowing full well what he had been doing in the kitchen. He felt a millisecond of guilt, until he saw the sheets, blanket and pillow that had been placed on the sideboard, his silk pajamas neatly folded atop the pile. His irritation with Alice, simmering on low ever since stepping into the house that afternoon, threatened to boil over.

The silence was awkwardly deafening for several minutes before Jamie broke it. "Well, lads and lasses, I'm beat. It's time my mother's oldest son hit the hay." He patted Mae on the shoulder, kissed his mother's cheek, deliberately avoided saying anything to Perry, and left the room.

A slight panic overtook Robbie in the absence of his brother, who had always been his buffer between him and the women in their family, not to mention the veritable stranger his sister was involved with. He jumped to his feet suddenly. "I'd better go upstairs, too," he said in a rush. "James is a bear if you wake him up." And he was gone so fast no one had a chance to say anything.

Then Mae, the great traitor, made her getaway just as quickly, with a mumbled good night and a slight wave of her hand, leaving Alice and Perry alone. He stared across the table at her, eyes dark and brooding.

"So I'm banished from my own bedroom," he concluded, nodding toward the bedding atop the sideboard.

Alice studied her hands, which were folded in front of her on the table. "I would be more comfortable if you didn't sleep with my daughter."

"Alice, shouldn't Della be allowed to decide who she sleeps with in her own house?"

Alice held her mouth in a thin, tight line. "I know my maternal concern is overstepping your graciousness since this isn't my house, but I feel very strongly about this. If you were married…"

"I'd like nothing more than to be married," he interrupted with emphatic frustration. "Alice, Della and I live according to her terms. I've spent years trying to understand why she keeps refusing my proposals…you have no idea how helpless I feel now, knowing she didn't tell me about Gregg Martin…."

Alice Street's hand crept across the table and her fingers lightly touched his. "Della loves you," Alice said quietly. "She loves you more than she could have possibly loved Gregg."

"Then tell me why she won't marry me," he implored. "Because I can't for the life of me figure it out."

The raw hurt in his voice stunned Alice and she felt a surge of true affection for him. "Perry, this is something you have to figure out with Della. I can't presume to tell you why she won't marry you."

"Yet you'll presume to tell us where we'll sleep," he grumbled.

"If I backtrack and ask very nicely that you and my daughter occupy separate beds as long as I'm here, will it make a difference?"

"I don't know. Can I smoke in the house?"

Alice sighed with dramatic resignation. "I'm one demanding witch, aren't I? You probably wish I was more like my sister."

"On the contrary," Perry denied quickly. "One Mae is all I can handle."

Alice actually laughed. "People think I'm the older sister, but that's probably because Mae never had children. She's so much more modern than I am." She sobered and patted Perry's hand. "I know I'm asking a lot, Perry, but can you humor this uptight, overprotective mother for a few more days?"

"That depends. You haven't told me I can smoke in the house."

Alice opened her mouth to sharply lecture him about why she had such a disdain for cigarettes, but wisely closed it. He was a grown man for Heaven's sake, a successful, famous man who knew who he was and what he wanted and very likely got it more often than not. And it _**was**_ his house. She felt ashamed but stalwart for inflicting her morals on him, because it was her baby girl they were talking about him sleeping with.

Perry suddenly leaned forward and took hold of her wrist. "All right, Alice, you win. I'll sleep in the den, and I'll smoke on the porch."

Alice watched him get to his feet and her shame deepened. "I didn't want to 'win' anything," she offered in a strained voice. "By the time I was Della's age I'd had three babies in four years. I don't make an issue of it with her because she has a right to live her own life, but I'm just not ready to let go of everything I taught my children about morality, even if they have."

Perry circled the table and came to stand before her. He reached out his hands, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her cheek. "Alice, you did a hell of a job raising your children, and I will respect your wishes." He turned and gathered the bedding in his arms. "But just so you know, the instant you leave town, I'll be in bed with your daughter."

Alice watched his retreating back as he disappeared into the den and closed the door behind him. She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Perry wasn't asleep, and wasn't awake. He was somewhere in between, where thoughts that refused to be put to rest jumbled together at high speed and made one unaware of reality. That's why he was surprised when Della's hand landed on his chest and her nearly healed lips brushed his.

"Wake up, darling," she cooed.

He laid his hand over hers, keeping his eyes closed. "I'd rather not. I like the dream I'm having."

She laughed softly and kissed him again. "Do tell."

"Well, the most beautiful woman in the world, who was declared off limits by her mother, has suddenly appeared at my side and is kissing me in a most delightful way."

"It sounds wonderful." Her hand was now massaging his chest, sliding provocatively over the slippery silk of his pajama top.

"It is. And it just got better."

She tried to smother a cough and he sat up abruptly, his hands automatically beginning to rub her back. She sighed and laid her head against his chest. "I couldn't sleep," she pouted. "It's lonely in that great big bed by myself. And you didn't come up to kiss me goodnight."

"You kissed me goodnight in the dining room," he reminded her.

She shook her head. "That wasn't a kiss. That was punctuation on my frustration."

"There's a lot of that going around," he agreed. "What are you doing?"

Her hand had found its way inside his pajama top. "I want to feel your heart," she answered as her fingers tangled in his chest hair.

He gently but firmly extracted her hand and kissed it. "I think you need to go back to bed before I do something your mother will hate me for."

Della raised her head and nuzzled his neck. "Can I stay for just a little while? I'll behave, I promise."

Perry lay back against the pillow and pulled her down on top of him. She squirmed and wedged herself between his body and the back of the leather couch. He covered her with the blanket as she rested her head on his chest.

"All right, my love, we'll have a nice snuggle, and then you'll have to go back to that big, lonely bed."

"Shhh," she commanded. "I want to listen to your heart."

He smiled happily into the darkness and promptly fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alice Street was the first one up the next morning and she quietly made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen to start the first of many, many pots of coffee. Jamie and Robbie had promised to make breakfast before they had to leave for the airport, having decided during the game of Yahtzee to go back to Michigan now that Della was out of the hospital, but she knew everyone would want coffee as soon as they awoke.

As she shuffled into the kitchen she noticed the pocket door to the den was open and crossed to close it so she wouldn't bother Perry as she puttered in the kitchen. She reached for the brass ring but what she saw in the early morning light halted her intent.

Della was lying atop Perry, one arm hugging his massive chest, her head snuggled beneath his chin. Both of Perry's arms were around Della, holding her possessively, securely, lovingly. Both were sound asleep, and both had a relaxed, peaceful expression on their face.

Alice silently backed away from the doorway and headed back up the stairs. She would let someone else 'discover' them, or perhaps Della would wake up and 'sneak' back to the master bedroom and pretend she had spent the entire night there. However the scenario played out, Alice was determined not to be a part of it.


	27. Chapter 27

**Part 6.3 - Girl Talk**

The day was unseasonably warm for January on Della's third day home from the hospital, and she was enjoying the spring-like weather despite the constant hovering of Perry and her family. She felt more and more like herself with each passing day and was beginning to get antsy, squabbling with anyone who told her she couldn't/shouldn't do something. Perry and Kathy were hard pressed to keep her quiet since rest was an important part of her recovery, but Della being Della, she wasn't happy with her restrictions. Her brothers had had returned to Michigan, but her mother and Aunt Mae were still there, watching over her like mother hawks, competing with each other and Perry to attend to her every need. While she loved them and the fact they were both there, their presence made it difficult for her and Perry to be themselves with one another and this added to her frustration.

Kathy had given permission for Della to sit outside for a while as long as she was bundled up and didn't exert herself. So here she was, lying on the chintz chaise Martin had delivered only the day before, covered with her favorite crocheted throw as well as a couple of extra blankets taken from the chests in the blue room, sweating in the mid-day sun. The chaise was very similar to the one that had been on the Martin's porch, except for one major difference: the size. The Martin chaise had accommodated only one person. The chaise Martin Hightower had selected was large enough for two people, and her excitement was so great it brought on a coughing fit that had three 'nurses' running to her side with stricken faces. Martin had also bought two matching chairs and a small rectangular pine table in a natural finish. She loved every single item the designer had chosen for the porch, and knew she would spend many happy hours on it, just as she had in her childhood.

The French door opened and Perry stepped out onto the porch with a tray containing a crock of her mother's chicken noodle soup, a grilled cheese sandwich, and a glass of cranberry juice. He paused to drink in the sight of her, no longer in the confining oxygen tent, her cheeks naturally rosy, her hair softy tousled by a mild breeze. He had worn a perpetual smile for the past few days, and even though there was a moderate amount of tension between them, he couldn't be happier. He needed to somehow alleviate the tension so it wouldn't interfere with her recovery, but privacy was difficult to come by lately, what with the amount of people either staying at the house or visiting. He set the tray on the table, and took advantage of his bent posture to kiss her cheek gently, then sat down next to her.

"You look gorgeous, Miss Street."

Della rewarded the compliment with a smile and a bit of a surprised look. She hadn't expected Perry to bring her lunch, let alone give her such a nice little kiss. "Thank you, Counselor, but I think gorgeous may be a bit of a stretch."

"Not from where I'm sitting. You look so much better, Della. You have color in your cheeks and your eyes sparkle again. You even made it up the stairs without huffing and puffing this morning. I'll be eternally grateful to Kathy and the nurses at the hospital for everything they did, but I think being home has been the best thing for you."

Della lowered her eyes then raised them almost shyly to Perry's. "I'm grateful for what they did, too, but I know the real reason I'm better is because of you. You really are my hero."

She wished he would kiss her for real, his lips demanding and desirous, but he continued to hold back, to keep a certain hurtful distance between them. Right now was no different than the past few days.

"I was a very scared hero." His eyes held hers for a second with an intensity that made her shiver before becoming clouded and unreadable. "Time for you to eat, young lady. Your mother spent all morning cooking this soup and I made the perfect grilled cheese and pickle sandwich, so I want you to be a good girl and finish everything. When you've eaten every bit, and relaxed for a few minutes, I'm going to bring you inside so you can take a nice nap."

"Honey, I don't need to be carried everywhere I go. And I'm not tired. Maybe I should try skipping a nap today."

He shook his head. "No, doctor's orders are that you will take a nap for at least the first week home from the hospital."

"If I promise to take a nap, will you tell me a story and rub my back?"

He shifted almost nervously on the chaise, putting a couple more inches between them. "We'll see."

"I heard a car. Did Martin leave?"

Perry nodded. "Actually, he took your mother and Mae into town to show them his shop, and to do some marketing and exploring. They won't be back for a couple of hours."

She grinned mischievously and took a bite from one triangle of the sandwich. "So we have the house to ourselves? Don't you think we can find something more…interesting to do than take a nap? You said yourself I'm stronger and my sparkle is back." Her voice, still a bit congested, held a sultry tone he couldn't ignore.

He chuckled. "What I think, my dear, is that you have been a bit cranky and obstinate. My firecracker is definitely coming back to life, and I know I'm going to regret this, but three days out of the hospital is not the time for something more interesting. Let's just be happy that you're home with me where you belong and enjoy the beautiful day. This is Kathy pulling into the driveway and I want her to see that we are following her directions."

Della made a little face at the intrusion of her doctor, if not her childhood friend. "I'm very happy to have reconnected with Kathy, but does she have to come every day to check on me? And what kind of a doctor gives directions not to indulge in activities that will have a positive impact on the patient's overall recovery?"

As if on cue and saving Perry from having to reply, the doorbell rang. Perry laughed, kissed Della's forehead quickly and got to his feet. "I'm going to let her in. Start attacking that soup, young lady. I want to see it halfway gone by the time I come back with Dr. Spencer." He re-entered the house through the open French door as Della picked up the spoon and began to eat the soup. At the first spoonful a memory overcame her and she closed her eyes almost involuntarily.

_She was sitting cross-legged on her canopy bed holding a purring Eloise in her arms. There was a quiet knock on the door, and her mother entered carrying a bed tray on which she had laid out a bowl of chicken soup and a turkey sandwich. Her mother placed the tray on the nightstand and sat down on the mattress next to her daughter._

"_Sweetheart, why won't you talk to Kathy? She's called three times this week. She's your best friend and you shouldn't keep shutting her out. She's mourning Gregg too, you know. We all miss Gregg and Daddy, but honey, but it's been six months since Gregg…and three months since Daddy…this isn't good, Della. It's not healthy to shut yourself away like this."_

_She fought back tears that were never far away. "Please Mom, I'm fine. Everyone grieves differently, and I guess this is how I do it. I'll call Kathy when I'm up to it. Please stop worrying, Mom. You have enough to worry about."_

"_Honey, you're my daughter – my baby. I'm always going to worry no matter how old you are." She gathered her daughter, cat and all, into her arms for a hug. She released her when Eloise let out an indignant 'miaow' and stood up. "At least eat what I brought since you didn't come down to dinner again. I must say I'm getting lonely eating by myself all the time."_

_She felt a stab of guilt. "Thank you, Mom. I love you."_

"_I love you too, sweetheart. Eat and get some rest. And please, don't forget about Kathy."_

_She reached over, grabbed half of the sandwich, pulled a piece of turkey from between the slices of Wonder Bread and fed it to Eloise, who purred loudly once again. She wanted to call Kathy, really she did, but she just couldn't. No one understood, least of all Kathy. She took one bite of the sandwich. It tasted like sawdust. But everything tasted like sawdust to her lately. Eloise reached up and pawed at her arm, begging for more turkey. She smiled, set the sandwich back down on the plate and gave the striped cat a quick hug. Eloise understood. She didn't ask questions and didn't tell her to do things she didn't want to do. If only people could be more like cats sometimes…_

"Well now, how's my star patient feeling today?"

Della opened her eyes with a start as Kathy walked through the French door by herself. She smiled as her old friend sat down on the chaise next to her, grabbed her wrist and began taking her pulse.

"I feel great, spectacular, good as new. My doctor is a brilliant healer."

"I think you might be overstating, Del, but I'm glad your particular brand of feistiness is intact. You look a lot healthier than when I first saw you." She abruptly dropped Della's wrist and turned to face her with a serious look. "I told Perry I was going to give you a thorough examination and he needed to stay out of the way, but what I really want to do is talk. With Aunt Alice and Mae out of the house and out of our way, now is the time."

Della had wondered how long it would take Kathy to confront her again after their unsatisfying talk in the hospital. She set the bowl of soup down on the tray and settled back against the chaise, pulling the throw more closely around her shoulders. Kath –"

"Del, I want to talk to you, and I want you to listen to me, really listen. I wasn't going to say anything more but we've been friends too long – even with the break in communication – and I think I have a right to say some things to you."

"Kath –" Della began again, and again Kathy cut her off.

"No, Della, hear me out. Then you can say whatever you want and I'll listen to you."

"No, you listen to me first because I have a feeling I'm not going to like what you're about to say and I want to lay some groundwork before you start giving me one of your lectures. I know you and Perry had quite the conversation when I was unconscious and you told him about Gregg. You had no right to do that. If I had wanted him to know about Gregg I would have told him myself a long time ago. You betrayed a confidence, Dr. Spencer, whether you recognize it as such or not, and I don't know how to forgive you for that. I loved you like a sister, and couldn't have been happier that you were actually going to be my sister, but I had to grieve in my own way. And now after all this time, here you are, and what do you do? You charge right ahead Kathy-style and tell Perry about the most difficult period of my life. He knew about Dad, and I told him about our family summers at the shore, and your house, and your family, but I didn't tell him about Gregg and me…and about how Gregg died. He's upset with me and won't touch me how I want to be touched, or talk to me how I want to be talked to. It's 'darling' this and 'baby' that, but more out of habit than any true feeling. I suppose he has a right to be upset, but there's unspoken tension between us and I have to find a way to make everything better."

Kathy stood abruptly and leaned against the porch railing, arms wrapped around herself, facing away from Della.

"Del, I appreciate you think I betrayed you, but hear me out. When Perry looked right at me and knew who I was, I was flabbergasted. He told me we'd talk once you were out of danger, and that's exactly what we did. He was so distraught and didn't want to leave you for a minute, but the nurses had to take care of you so I made him come with me to the lounge for coffee. He needed a break and someone to talk to, and I listened. He told me he loves you and would do anything to make you happy, how he bought this house for you and what it represents. He asked why our families were estranged and I admitted that it was only you that was estranged, which he assumed was because of Uncle Jim's death. One thing led to another and I told him about you and Gregg. I didn't mean to betray a confidence, Del, and I'm sorry you think I said too much. I was just telling him about my best friend and my brother, and what it was that made you turn away from us, what made you move out to California. I didn't want to say anything about our conversation in the hospital because it wasn't the time or the place and I knew you wouldn't be receptive to it anyway. But you're out, you're home, and you're doing amazingly well, so I need to tell you what's been on my mind since I realized it was you lying in the emergency room."

"What makes you think I'll be any more receptive out of the hospital than I might have been in the hospital?" Della asked crossly. "I wanted to be glad that we reconnected and leave everything else out, but that's impossible now. I told you how I felt about what happened to Gregg and how I feel about Perry. That's all I'm going to say."

"Well, I have more to say and you are going to listen, Della Street. Downstairs is the most wonderful man I've ever met except for David. Della, you didn't see what the rest of us saw, how he almost wound up in the hospital himself with worry over you. Until you told Mae to make him get some sleep he'd had a cup of coffee, no food and had barely closed his eyes to blink for fear you'd move and he'd miss it. He was almost out of his mind with worry and every time he looked at you I thought he was going to break down. In fact, one time he did, and if you tell him I told you, I'll deny it. On top of all that, he had to deal with and your mother and your aunt and your brothers, and let me tell you, what you saw was mild. As much as I love your mother and brothers, if you hadn't been critically ill I would have told them off and sent them packing."

"Don't you realize I know he's wonderful? He's the best thing…" she choked suddenly, unable to continue.

Kathy turned quickly and caught the stricken look in her eyes. "Della, you have to let this guilt go. It's not healthy and it's not normal. It's been eleven years. You're doing Perry a terrible injustice and you're not doing yourself any good either."

Della's eyes filled with tears. It took several seconds to get words out, and when she did, her voice trembled. "I don't…I can't…"

Kathy remained silent while Della gathered her thoughts again.

"I don't remember loving Gregg," she whispered with restrained agony. "As much as I love Perry, if – if I married him it would be…I would feel that my love for Gregg never existed. That _**he**_ never existed. I – I don't want to lose Gregg, or lose my memories of him. He deserves to be remembered."

Kathy regarded her with keen sympathy. "For a very bright woman you just said something that makes no sense whatsoever. In fact, the more I think about it, the more ludicrous it becomes. Del, you'll never lose those memories. They'll always be a wonderful, special part of your life. Gregg loved you and wanted you to be happy. He would be so glad you fell in love again. You know, until that night Perry brought you into the emergency room I didn't believe in divine intervention or miracles, but now, somehow, I think Gregg made this happen. Now I like to think he's watching over us, that he knew we should reconnect, and set into motion all these coincidences."

Della sniffed. Talking about Gregg made her feel slightly better, refreshed memories that she had thought lost to her. Kathy's admission of a newfound belief in miracles was surprising but comforting. "I really was very happy to see you," she whispered. "I knew it was you, even when I was so sick. No one has an accent like yours." She sniffed again. "It's just so hard, Kath. I committed myself to Gregg. I was supposed to be his wife."

Kathy smiled sadly. "I know, String Bean." She left the railing and sat back down next to Della on the chaise. "Let me ask you something. What is it like to love Perry?"

A serene look passed over Della's face and her eyes softened. "I wouldn't know where to begin, Kath. Every day is a total wonder. He makes me feel desired and peaceful and content. I feel like I can do anything and be anything I want because he'll be there to support me. He's my best friend, and when he holds me and tells me he loves me, nothing else matters. He's everything I could ever want or need, and I'm so lucky he loves me, too. I never know what his brilliant mind has planned – the perfect date, the perfect gift, the perfect words. He protects me and spoils me. Like this house. Never in a million years did I expect _**this**_. I've been feeling homesick and he hates it when I'm sad or sick and worries like crazy about me."

"I certainly had a front row seat to that," Kathy said with a laugh. "He charmed every nurse on the floor, too."

"It's not always easy to love him," Della went on. "He has a temper and patience is a relatively new concept to him. Except with me. He's gentle and kind and loving and I feel like such a woman when he…" she trailed off with a blush.

Kathy leaned over and hugged her. Then she sat back and took Della's hand. "Have you been listening to yourself? In case you haven't been, I have a news flash for you: you just remembered how it felt to love Gregg. You told me virtually the same things once – how he made you feel desired and at peace, how he supported your ambition of going to college and working in Uncle Jim's company, how lucky you were that he loved you. Della, by loving Perry, you honor your love for Gregg, don't you see that? Gregg would want this for you. I know you take your vow to Gregg seriously, but he's not here anymore, and as much as that hurts, you have to let him go and take hold of what's in your life now."

Della looked down at their intertwined hands and blinked back tears. Deep down she knew Kathy was right. But she had held onto her love for Gregg for so long, and even when she had been falling in love with Perry so very, very deeply she had struggled to keep Gregg alive within herself. It wasn't fair to Gregg that she loved Perry as she did. She felt traitorous that her love for Gregg had never approached the depth of her love for Perry, that she had never been happier in her life than she was since meeting him.

"Del, you said that you loved me like a sister and was happy that I was really going be your sister when you married Gregg," Kathy said, breaking into Della's tortured, melancholy thoughts. "I always felt like you were my sister, too. We had a special relationship and it nearly killed me when you withdrew from me. I needed you. I'm still your sister, Della, if you'll have me."

Before Della could reply, the French door swung open and Perry stepped onto the porch. He took one look at the two women and realized he had walked into the middle of a seriously deep conversation. He smiled and purposely kept his voice light. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you lovely ladies, but the patient has been out here long enough. Would you like me to make a pot of tea and you come downstairs when you're finished talking and we can have tea and cut into the chocolate cake Mae baked this morning?"

Della had to smile. Even with the tension between them the past few days she loved him desperately, and she knew he would sacrifice everything to see that she was happy and well. "Tea and cake sounds wonderful, darling. And you don't have to leave. Kathy and I were just reminiscing, weren't we, Kath? Just having a little…"

"Girl talk," Kathy cut in with a smile.

Perry rolled his eyes. "I'm doubly sorry to have interrupted, then."

Della held her arms out to him. "You can carry me downstairs," she told him.

He stood looking at her with an amused expression. "Just a few minutes ago you complained about being carried everywhere. I think we should let your doctor decide if you should walk or if I should carry you."

Kathy held up her hands. "I'm not getting in the middle of this, not as a doctor nor as an innocent bystander."

Della pushed herself up from the cocoon of blankets and slid from the chaise. "Never mind," she said briskly. "I'll manage by myself."

Kathy felt a sudden chill in the air that had nothing to do with the weather, the tension almost visible between Perry and Della. She felt that Della's reaction to Perry's suggestion was a trifle dramatic and fed directly into the uneasiness, but she saw what Della had mentioned, and wondered if it was merely learning about Gregg that made Perry standoffish. She watched as Perry's eyes tracked Della's movements with longing and desire despite his refusal to take her up on her request to be carried. Maybe they just needed to be alone to work out everything that had been wedged between them in the past couple of weeks, and maybe she could help out in that endeavor.


	28. Chapter 28

**Part 6.4 – An Invitation**

Once downstairs in the kitchen Della and Kathy decided on just tea, much to Perry's disappointment. He had wanted Della to eat more, to give in to her love of sweets, but she wouldn't. She had withdrawn from him again since their pleasant exchange before Kathy's arrival, and focused most of her attention on her old friend.

He sat listening to the girls as they reminisced about diving horses, rolling chair excursions, and some exotic treat called 'paddles' – loving the relaxed happiness in Della's voice, as well as the differences in their speech patterns and geographical accents. Although Kathy had lived many years in California, she had not lost much of her East Coast accent, whereas he hadn't realized how accustomed he had become to Della's decidedly northern accent. The longer they talked, the more apparent each accent became to him, and he was grinning from ear-to-ear listening to Kathy say 'wood-er' and Della say 'wah-turrr' for 'water', and Kathy saying 'shoo-er' to Della's 'shurrr' for the word 'sure'. He silently refilled their tea cups several times, surreptitiously prolonging the interlude for Della's sake and for his own enjoyment. It was apparent that their friendship had been deep and true, and that the years apart, while painful and long, hadn't robbed them of their affection for one another.

It was nearly three o'clock when Kathy noticed the time and jumped to her feet, exclaiming that she needed to get home and cook dinner for David, on this, her one evening off duty. She winked at Della when admitting that she had an extra special dessert in mind for her husband, and after giving the patient a quick hug and insisting that she remain seated, followed Perry to the front door.

Perry opened the door and stepped aside to allow Kathy to precede him onto the porch. She turned and patted his shoulder. "Buck up, Perry," she said, "she's just a bit confused right now. Plus she's miffed at me for telling you about Gregg and deep down I guess I can't blame her. But as her physician I'm responsible for her total well-being and I have to ask you a personal question. How do you feel about her history with Gregg?"

Perry stared out over the expanse of lawn, his expression sober, blue eyes clear. "It's part of what makes her the woman I love," he answered simply. "Do I wish she had told me about him by now? Of course I do. But I had a lot of time to think while she was in the hospital and I realized that she's always internalized things that were difficult for her until she felt they were sufficiently resolved, or she had worked up a good case for her to argue. Then and only then does talk about them with me." He smiled. "She would have made one helluva lawyer."

"Or professional poker player," Kathy remarked dryly.

Perry chuckled. "Even I can't tell what she's thinking sometimes, which is part of her allure. Life with her is never dull."

"Was this surprise about Gregg too much for you?"

He shook his head emphatically. "No. I'm not a fool. She's the best thing in my life and I don't doubt she loves me. At least now I know why she won't marry me, and I won't get quite so frustrated the next time she refuses my proposal."

Kathy gave his arm a quick squeeze. "She's worth every effort you put into loving her," she told him.

Perry smiled. "I couldn't agree more, Dr. Spencer."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Della had the kitchen cleaned and was reseated in her chair with an innocent look on her face by the time Perry returned. He bit back an admonition about taxing herself and not having been able to see how much she had eaten, and merely tousled her hair as he passed by her to lean against the counter. She made no sound of protest, didn't swat playfully at him as she usually did, and held her eyes downcast.

"Della, is there something you want to say to me?"

"Yes, I want to say something. We need to talk, but I have some more thinking to do before we do."

He wished she would just tell him now, her thoughts raw and unformed, but he knew better. She only did that when she was upset, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get upset. He knew the topic of their discussion would be Gregg, and that her talk with Kathy had spurred the urge to finally tell him herself about the man she had agreed to marry. So he changed the subject.

"You know, I think now would be a good time for that nap."

She smiled with relief that he hadn't pressed her to talk this instant and reached for his hand. "Maybe it is. You didn't answer me before. Will you rub my back and tell me a story?"

He contemplated her beauty, her enormous eyes, her creamy complexion, and that smile – that breathtaking, dazzling smile that never failed to bring him to his knees and give her whatever it was her heart desired. If rubbing her back and telling her a story would result in a nap, then he wasn't going to jeopardize her health by refusing that little intimacy. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet slowly.

"All right, Miss Street, you win. I'll tell you a story and rub your back. And then you are going to take a nap for at least an hour."

They mounted the stairs silently, hand-in-hand, pausing on the landing for a breather and Perry tugged at her hand, bending to kiss her quickly. She smiled softly and touched his cheek, their actions speaking louder than any words either could utter. In the bedroom, he lifted her effortlessly onto the bed, removed her shoes, laid her down and covered her with the throw (he really must ask Martin to buy at least a dozen more). The blankets she had snuggled in while out on the porch were lying on the floor. He folded them, returned them to the blanket chests in the blue room, and came back to Della. As he lay down on the bed, he smiled and put his arms around her.

"Come here, pretty girl," he ordered gently. "What kind of story would you like to hear?"

Happy to be in his arms again, Della indulged in a contented sigh. Looking up into his handsome face she gave him a sleepy smile. "Can we have a dream date?"

"Sure we can. Where would you like to go?"

"To the carousel. You know, the one at Belmont Pier Kathy and I talked about. The one that has the horse with the blue and silver ribbons."

"That's where we'll go then." His fingers tenderly touched her lips. "No more talking, baby. You have to be quiet while I tell the story."

"I'll be so quiet you won't know I'm here," she promised.

"I hardly think that is possible, darling, but you get the idea of how quiet you need to be." He pretended to lapse into deep thought. "Let's see, where should I begin…." He cleared his throat and continued in his famous courtroom voice. "ONCE UPON A TIME…"

Della giggled.

"And just what is so funny about 'once upon a time'?"

"Nothing, darling, I'm sorry. I'll be quiet."

He began to rub her back lightly. "Now, as I was saying, once upon a time in a very big city, in a very big building, there was a very big lawyer…"

Della giggled again. "Oh, Per…rry."

"Shhh. Please, Miss Street, you wanted me to tell you a story, and I'm trying to oblige, but you're making it extremely difficult. You'll have to be quiet or I won't be able to continue."

"Okay, I'll be quiet." She tried to stifle a yawn.

He drew his finger across her cheekbone then returned to rubbing her back. "So, there was this big lawyer and he had the most amazing secretary in the world. He had dreamed of this woman for a long time, never thinking that they would ever meet again, let alone work together. The secretary was incredibly beautiful and so special that something happened to the lawyer almost immediately after he hired her. Do you know what that was?"

"Mmmmhmmm," she mumbled, her eyes closed, her breathing low and even. Perry moved her slightly, rearranging her more comfortably in his arms. He put his face next to hers and spoke very softly.

"That's right. He fell hopelessly in love with her forever."

Perry pulled back and looked at Della. He loved her so much, and the past couple of weeks had taught him that no client and no case should ever interfere with what they had between them. She was where she belonged, with him, in their bed, in his arms. His hand moved up and down her back soothingly and she snuggled closer to him. He never got to the part in the story about the dream date at the carousel. She was asleep, her mouth curved in a tiny smile. He kissed her forehead, so relieved that it was cool and not burning with fever.

"That's my precious girl," he whispered. "Sleep." Her breathing deepened and he didn't think it was possible, but she seemed to sink even further into his arms. "There's time for everything else later."

Perry closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows, planning a surprise for the beautiful woman who lay so rightfully in his arms. In a while he would call Kathy and when Alice and Mae came back from town, he would have a little chat with the two women.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Della turned slightly, reaching for someone who wasn't there. Opening her eyes reluctantly, she realized that she was alone in the enormous bed. She stretched languidly, sat up, and put one hand on the bedpost. Holding on to steady herself, she slid to the floor and stood for a moment, shaking off the slight fog of her afternoon nap. Opening the door and walking into the square hallway, she descended the stairs in search of Perry. As she hit the next to last step, she heard her mother's laughter coming from the kitchen, followed by a guffaw from Aunt Mae. She was more than a little surprised, since there had been a decided shortage of laughter from her family lately. Entering the room on stealthy feet, she stopped abruptly, her eyes wide with disbelief. Aunt Mae and her mother were seated at the table laughing – no that wasn't the correct word – they weren't just laughing, they were _**destroyed**_, holding their middles with tears running down their faces. On further discovery, Della realized the reason for their condition was that Perry was figuratively holding court, standing in front of the sink, gripping the counter with one hand, the other on his waist. In his best lawyer fashion he was regaling the women with courtroom stories, playing different parts from Hamilton Burger to Judge Anders Fleming, whose accent was so thick he often wrote out his objection rulings on a small chalkboard and flashed it to counsel and the court reporter, but no one could decipher his handwriting, either. Della watched this wonderful scene silently so as not to ruin the moment. Alice finally caught sight of Della hovering in the doorway and tried to gather herself so she could speak.

"Della, oh honey, Perry was…was just telling us the funniest stories about ...about what sometimes happens in court. I can see why you love your job so much."

Della was flabbergasted, not knowing what delighted her more: the fact that her mother continued to refer to Perry by his first name or the fact that he had made her laugh. She raised one eyebrow at Perry. "Giving away all our highly kept secrets, Counselor?"

Perry eyed her with a most serious countenance, but his eyes were full of the devil. "Why Miss Street, however can you accuse me of something like that? You know I make it a practice never to divulge confidential information. I was just explaining to these two young, intelligent women that sometimes in our business we come across the strangest things." Then he grinned.

Della continued to hold that one eyebrow aloft, trying not to laugh and start a coughing fit. "I should report you to the Bar Association for courtroom shenanigans." She couldn't hold out any longer and broke into giggles thinking about Judge Fleming and his chalkboard hieroglyphics.

Fearful of a coughing fit erupting, Perry walked quickly over to her. Aware that Alice and Mae were watching them, he gently put his arm around her. "How was your nap, young lady?"

"Very nice, thank you. However, when I woke up – "

"Your mother and Mae came back about an hour ago," he interrupted nonsensically, not wanting them to know he had been in bed with Della, even if it was on top of the covers and totally innocent. Showing how things were between them at the hospital was one thing, but here at the house was something altogether different, as Alice had pointed out. "We were just having tea and chatting a bit. You were still asleep and we didn't want to disturb you. I was going to come up in a few minutes and check on you." Realizing he was babbling, he pulled her closer momentarily to whisper in her ear. "I love to watch you sleep, baby."

A smile crossed Della's features and Alice was well aware that she had just witnessed one of those private moments between her daughter and Perry Mason that Mae talked about. Sensing that Alice was about to spoil the congenial atmosphere, Mae spoke.

"We've had the nicest invitation, dear," she announced brightly. "Joan Martin called a little while ago and invited your mother and me to dinner. Of course, she included you and Perry in the invitation, but Kathy thought it might be too much for you and put the kibosh on it." She closed her eye in a slow wink. "Besides, your mother and I think it's about time you and Perry spend some time alone. Don't we, Alice?"

Cornered, Alice merely nodded.

Della's eyes lit up and she smiled brilliantly. Walking over to her mother, she bent and embraced her. She then repeated the embrace with Mae, giving her an extra squeeze of thanks.

Alice pushed herself away from the table. "Well, as nice as this interlude has been, if you will excuse me, I think I'll go upstairs and get ready to leave for the Martin's."

"I think it is about time we did," Mae concurred. "Come on, Alice, you can help me decide what to wear."

Alice moved toward where Della was standing next to her handsome attorney and gave her another hug before exiting the comfortable kitchen. Mae lingered behind, wiping up imaginary crumbs from the table.

"Have a nice evening you two. Don't let her overdo it, Perry. I'll keep Alice out as long as I can." Her aunt's eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Aunt Mae!"

A look of understanding passed between Mae and Perry. She burst into laughter and walked out of the kitchen.

Perry immediately wrapped Della in his arms, and as she turned into him, she noticed the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "All right, Counselor, confess. What are you up to?"

"What makes you think I'm up to anything, my dear? I was just having a nice time with your mother and your aunt. That's all there is to it."

She regarded him skeptically. "Hmmm. I haven't spent all these years in a law office to take a statement like that at face value after witnessing the circumstances leading up to it. But since you were being so charming with Mom and Aunt Mae, I'll let it slide. This time." Her voice lowered. "Thank you, darling. Thank you for being so wonderful with them. I think Mom is finally getting used to you being underfoot."

"I certainly hope so, sweetheart, because I hope to be underfoot for a very, very long time. I want everyone to be happy." He brushed his hand across her cheek, then kissed her. The kiss was lingering, so much different than the little peck on the porch earlier. Della's heart fluttered.

"That was very nice, darling. May I have another?"

"One more, you maniac, then you will have to find something to occupy your time until dinner is ready."

"Can't I watch? I find it very sexy when you cook. Can I make a salad?"

He laughed at her eagerness and gave her the promised kiss, his exploration of her soft and willing mouth thorough. "Not tonight, baby," he told her smoothly after reluctantly breaking away. "Tonight I have a special dinner planned and I'm going to spoil you. There might even be a surprise. You can help with dinner tomorrow night."

Della pouted, pushing out her lower lip elaborately and glaring at him in a sidelong glance. "I guess I can find something to do until dinner is ready. But I'm only doing what you say because you mentioned a surprise. Maybe I'll lie on the couch and listen to music very loud so you can hear it."

"That sounds like a good idea. Run along, my dear. Dinner will be ready at six."

Della placed a hand on his cheek. "I love you, Perry."

"I love you, too, Della."

As she left the kitchen and made her way slowly to the living room, a smile played at the corners of her mouth. "You're not the only one who has a surprise planned for tonight, Mr. Mason," she said under her breath.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After putting on a long-playing Glenn Miller record on the console stereo, stacking two more on the spindle and turning up the volume, Della went upstairs to her bedroom and began preparing for her own surprise for the evening alone with Perry. But as she carefully considered her wardrobe and what would best suit her plan, Kathy's words from their two private conversations played over and over in her head.

"You have to let of the guilt…Perry loves you…it's not fair to him…terrible injustice…Gregg would want you to love again…have to let go of the guilt…it's not healthy…let go of the guilt."

Della shook herself. "Oh Kath," she said aloud. "You're right."

Now she just had to find a way to do it and to fix what was wrong between herself and Perry – the affection and easy banter of a few moments ago notwithstanding. But where should she begin? He was so understanding about everything, even about the things he didn't understand. She smiled at that. He let her be herself, let her do things the way she had to do them. He had to have been shocked when Kathy told him about Gregg, hurt and bewildered that she had never told him herself. Would he understand why she kept Gregg a secret? But more importantly, would he understand her love for Gregg, how she had struggled to honor that love and the promises she had made all those years ago?

She sat down in a comfortable velvety mohair chair, pulled her feet beneath her, and stared out the window. She could hear her mother and Aunt Mae getting ready to leave for dinner, bustling between their rooms and the bathroom, their laughter and good-natured sisterly conversation a huge comfort to her. Having them here was wonderful, but she needed them to be gone tonight so she could be herself with Perry, so he could be himself with her. She needed him to touch her and to talk to her, _**really **_talk to her. She rested her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

_It had been a difficult case, and it wasn't over yet. They had been in the office working for hours and Paul had just left to follow a lead. It was very late, and she had removed her shoes an hour ago and was sitting with her feet tucked beneath her, her head leaning back against the soft leather of the leather client chair. Her notepad was in her lap, her pencil held loosely in her hand. She watched him pace back and forth the way he always did when his mind couldn't quite wrap itself around the facts of a case, or when something bothered him. She loved to watch him pace. His hands pushed deep in his pockets or fisted in each other, those piercing blue eyes intently staring at the floor, that brilliant mind working tirelessly. Now he moved behind his desk and sat down suddenly in his big chair, exhaustion and something else she couldn't identify playing across his handsome face. He put his arms on the desk and looked directly into her eyes. She tucked her pad in the cushion of the chair, got up, and walked over to stand beside him. Without a word, she placed her hand on this arm and smiled. _

_He stood quickly and faced her, smiling through his exhaustion. "You're always here, Della," he said humbly. "I wouldn't know what I would do without you and I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate everything you do…how special you are."_

_She smiled again, touched by his sentiments. "It's my pleasure, Counselor. I'm glad to help in any way I can. That's what I'm here for. I'll always be here." She nearly fainted with the boldness of her words. How could she have said that? _

_He locked eyes with her, refusing to allow her to look away. He gently touched her full upper lip and traced the decided Cupid's bow to one corner and back again. "Della, I have to tell you something I've wanted to tell you for months, but the time was never right. I can't wait any longer." He tipped her chin up to him, his eyes the deepest blue she had ever seen. "I love you. I've loved you from the first moment I saw you on that terrace outside the jazz club. You probably think –"_

_She touched his lip then, tracing the line of his mouth exactly as he had. "What I think, Counselor," she interrupted, "is that you should probably stop talking and kiss me. Because, you see, believe it or not, I've loved you from that very same moment."_

_Not a split second passed before he swept her into his arms and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers, standing on tiptoes to make up for the lack of height her discarded pumps would have given her. His arms tightened around her as his mouth explored hers, as his tongue confidently teased her lips for permission to enter. Once she allowed him access to the softness within, she was lost, as she had always known she would be._

_There were no more words between them as he broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his eyes blazing with desire. He led her to the long couch against the wall and slowly pulled her down with him…._

"Della! We're leaving now."

She lifted her head at the sound of her mother's voice. "Okay," she responded in a croaky voice. She cleared her throat. "Have fun." Then she smiled at the wonderful little day dream just ended, and knew without a doubt what she would wear to her own dinner that evening.


	29. Chapter 29

**Part 6.5 - The Day After Forever**

At exactly six o'clock Della descended the stairs. She detected a fire in the hearth, its glow throwing comforting warmth throughout the entire lower level of the house. Passing the dining room on her way to the kitchen, she saw that the table had already been set with china and crystal and the room lit by a dozen candles. The smells emanating from the kitchen were marvelous, and Della excitedly made her way to where Perry was.

He stood at the stove, concentrating on whatever it was in the pot on the burner. When her perfume wafted to his nose, he looked up and blinked in stunned surprise at the woman standing in the doorway. She was wearing one of the negligees they had purchased on the way to Carmel, a soft lilac gown of silk and lace with a wide sash at the waist and long sleeves just a shade darker than the gown. The robe had bell sleeves and a plunging neckline that displayed the swell of her breasts to advantage and nearly made him groan. She had tossed her curls loosely and applied make-up sparsely on her flawless face. Around her neck was the diamond heart necklace he had given her a week after they had become lovers.

She was exquisite. His knees shook and his heart pounded wildly in his chest. He couldn't speak, so struck by her that all he could do was stare. Then he forced his feet to move and he approached Della slowly, not quite sure if she were real or imagined.

He stood in front of her and placed his hands at her waist, but did not pull her close. Instead, he continued to stare into her warm hazel eyes, and when he spoke it was so softly that Della had to strain to hear his words.

"Della, my God. You look like an angel. If I didn't know better, I would swear you haven't been sick. Look at you. Look how beautiful you are."

She looked away briefly. "Thank you, darling. I'm glad you approve, since you picked out this gown. It's for you – all for you. You said tonight would be special for me, so I decided I would do something to make it special for you, too."

"You certainly have made it special." He bent and teased her lips tenderly, pulling back before the kiss could get out of hand. "Well, that was a delicious appetizer, but I'm still hungry."

She laughed. "It smells divine in here. What are we having?"

His eyes fairly danced with delight. "Racamoni and cheese." He kissed her again. "When I said I was hungry, why would you immediately assume I meant for food?"

She laughed again. "Because I'm starving."

"I believe that's the first time since coming home from the hospital you've said that. And you usually say it about three times a day."

"Did you make hot dogs and green beans to go along with the racamoni?" she asked, choosing to ignore his comment.

He looked offended. "For a special night such as this? I'll have you know I prepared Polish sausage and asparagus to accompany the racamoni."

Della couldn't stop laughing.

"The racamoni needs another ten minutes or so to get crunchy on top how you like it. Would Milady care to dance?"

"I would love to dance, Sir Knight."

Perry took her hand, kissed it, and swept his arm in front of him. "Lead the way to the dance floor, my dear."

Della watched Perry select a record and place it on the turntable, her heart full. He was so big and gentle and familiar and she loved him desperately. When he finished fiddling with the stereo he walked back to her and took her in his arms, and as the music began, he led her slowly around the room to the romantic voice of Frank Sinatra.

_All day tomorrow_

_I'll be whispering your name_

_And the day after forever_

_I know I'll do the same_

_Maytime or winter_

_I won't let you out of sight_

_And the day after forever_

_We'll talk about tonight_

_Your laughter is a melody_

_That I'll remember long_

_It plays upon my heart strings_

_It's my favorite song_

_All through a lifetime_

_I'll be loving you and then_

_On the day after forever_

_I'll just begin again._

Perry felt Della begin to tremble in his arms and a tiny whimper escaped her. Pulling back to look at her, he saw tears in her eyes. "Baby, what's the matter?"

She wiped at the tears with a shaky hand. "Perry, can we sit down for a minute? I'm ready to talk to you now."

"Of course we can. Come over here with me." He sat down on the blue sofa and tried to pull her into his lap, but she sat down next to him instead. Turning to face him, he saw how her eyes had gone from tearful to serious, and he met them with a questioning stare.

She fidgeted as Perry held her hand patiently, and her heart nearly did burst. "Perry, I…" how to begin this?

"Della, just start wherever you can and take your time. I'm listening"

He sometimes accused her of reading his mind, and now she truly believed he had read hers. She looked at him, sitting next to her, the man she loved with her whole being, the man who was everything to her. The time had come. She had to tell him herself about Gregg because she owed it to him – owed it to _**them**_ as a couple to tell him why she had kept such a secret.

"I talked with Kathy," she said, and stopped.

"I know. I horned in on your girl talk today"

She shook her head. "No, I've had two talks with Kathy. One in the hospital and one here. I – I'm ashamed to say I wasn't very nice to her either time. I told her I considered her telling you about Gregg a betrayal because I had never intended to tell you about him."

He stroked her fingers lightly. "I see," he said dully.

"But I've been thinking a lot about it since she left this afternoon," she continued in a rush. "I had put that time in my life away, buried it deep within myself where only I knew about it. I moved out here with Aunt Mae and tried to find a life I could tolerate, because happiness seemed like something I wasn't destined for. I dated, quite a bit, actually, but none of those men meant much to me. Then I met you on that terrace and I realized that I could be happy. I was so sad when I thought I'd never see you again, but fate brought us together and that's when I knew I had only been pretending to live since Gregg's death. You changed me, darling. You changed my life and made me happy and have given me things I never thought I would have. You are an amazing man, Perry Mason, and I never meant to hurt you by not telling you about Gregg. I thought that by not telling you I was keeping him alive and honoring his love for me. I made promises to him and loving you meant I was breaking those promises, so I couldn't tell you."

She paused and he slid his hand over her face, then held her chin in the palm of his hand. She circled his pinkie with her fingers and kissed his palm.

"I'm making a terrible mess of this," she said ruefully.

"No you're not. I understand perfectly what you're saying."

She blinked furiously at tears that threatened once more. "I love you in a way I never loved Gregg. It's so different from what I felt then. Maybe it's because I'm older or maybe because it's the way you love me, the way you allow me to love you on my terms. You never ask me for anything I'm not able to give…" she held up her hand with a little smile as he opened his mouth to say something. "Except for marriage," she amended. "Loving you has been a two-edged sword. It meant I was betraying Gregg and everything I promised him, but at the same time I couldn't deny what I felt for you and how you loved me so completely. Loving you meant I had to keep Gregg buried, in my heart and in my mind, or I would go insane."

His hand slid behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. She nearly melted into his arms, but resisted. There was so much more to tell him. She took his hand from her face and held it between hers.

"There's something else, Perry. Something I didn't want to admit even to myself, but now I have to. I was scared."

"Scared of what, baby?"

"I was scared that if I told you about Gregg that – that you wouldn't…understand and you'd be angry and then you'd leave. You'd leave me just like…" she put her head down, unable to go on.

Perry felt a wealth of emotions when it came to Della. He loved her, desired her, cherished her, reveled in her. She could upset him and frustrate him to distraction, but there was no anger. He could never be angry with her. His heart broke for everything she'd endured at such a tender age, how her dreams had ended so tragically. He now knew for certain from whence her dreams stemmed, and hoped that from this night forward she would no longer suffer from them.

He extricated his hands from hers and cradled her face in them, holding her gaze steady with his. "Della, I'm sorry you had those terrible losses at such a young age. I don't even want to think about the pain you must have felt. I love you, precious girl. I love you with all that I am and I want you to be happy. That's it. That's all I care about. I still don't completely understand why you didn't trust me enough to talk about Gregg, but that's okay, and I'm not angry about it. And I don't expect you to forget him just because he's gone. He was a very important part of your life and you should keep those memories. But Della, they shouldn't consume you. Just let them be what they are: beautiful memories of a man you loved. No more guilt, angel, and no more fear of anyone leaving you. I'm here to stay – just like the song said, until the day after forever."

"You deserve so much more than I've given you," she whispered. "I can't tell you how much I love you."

"Nonsense, darling. And for the record, you show how much you love me all the time, in a million ways every day. I love you too." He pressed warm lips to hers, a tender, sweet kiss that very plainly told Della exactly how he felt.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The asparagus was delightful, the 'racamoni' divine, and Della was full to the gills. Perry was inordinately pleased that she had eaten two helpings of pasta, which showed she was almost back to being herself. And he was pretty sure their talk tonight had made her feel even better. They were finishing their wine and Perry was contemplating getting up to start on the special dessert he'd planned when Della abruptly stood and plopped herself down in his lap. She put her arms around his neck and began to kiss him – on his cheeks, his eyes, behind his ears, under his chin, and finally – finally! – his lips. She then leaned back and her eyes smoldered with desire.

"What are you doing, baby?"

"I must not be doing it very well if you have to ask," she teased. "I'm thanking you for that perfectly scrumptious dinner." Her voice was low and throaty, with hardly a trace of congestion.

"You're welcome, honey, but it's not over yet. There's still dessert."

"I know. I thought I'd take care of dessert tonight."

"Do you want to wait a while? Are you full?"

"I'm full, but I don't want to wait for dessert – at least not the dessert you have in mind."

He smiled at her with amused indulgence. "You're driving me nuts."

"That's my plan, darling."

"What am I going to do with you?"

Her lips brushed his once more and then she pulled away to look at him with a mixture of devilish mischievousness and angelic innocence in her eyes. "Really, Perry, do I have to tell you?"

With a low growl, Perry stood with her in his arms and carried her through the dining room and up the stairs to their bedroom. Depositing her on the bed, he stood back and took in every beautiful inch of her before climbing up next to her and laying her down gently. His lips caressed the soft skin of her neck and traveled over her collar bone while his hands brushed tender breasts, cupping them almost reverently. She moaned and he swallowed the sound with a deep kiss. Suddenly he stopped and propped himself up on his elbow staring down at her.

The last time they had made love in this bed was the night he'd rushed her to the hospital and all the memories of that night came flooding back, overloading his passion-fogged mind. He started to roll away from her, but she held onto him tightly.

"It's all right, darling," she said softly. "I'm fine. I'm fine and I want you. Don't you want me?"

Perry's response was a cross between a moan and a strangled cry. He couldn't resist her. In one swift movement he turned his large, strong body so that Della was beneath him.

She slid her arms around his neck and he lowered his lips to meet hers. Her kiss was honest and searching, so filled with love that he nearly stopped breathing. He pulled away and stared at her again. He would never tire of looking at her like this, eyes alight with a depth of feeling he now knew was his alone, atremble with her need for him. His hands were steady and sure as they removed her robe and gown, her soft skin almost tingling, making her sigh. When she was naked and vulnerable, he sat up and began to undress. Her eyes were enormous as she watched him, loving the strength and breadth of him, of his absolute power over her. Before the last garment hit the floor, he again covered her body with his and hungry lips began to explore every trembling inch of her. Della responded with a bawdy freedom, letting him know all of her sensual desires, her small hands wondrously bold as they touched him. He wanted nothing more than to please her, to fulfill her needs as they dove deeper into their own private world. His hands and mouth took her to places she never knew existed, even with him. She moaned and writhed beneath him in delicious ecstasy and when he took her, she cried out with a pleasure so pure he gasped. Perry loved her with a gentleness that only she could bring out in him, and nothing but what their sensitized bodies told them mattered. Slowly and with infinite tenderness, he showed Della how much she meant to him.

Neither of the lovers heard the car pull up in the driveway, or the front door opening, or the sound of women's heels on the hardwood floor below them.

Not fifteen seconds after entering the house, Mae Kirby turned quickly to her sister, pushing her back out the door. In an urgent voice and with a slight blush creeping across her cheeks, she said, "Alice, we have to go out again this minute. I simply _**must**_ have a hot fudge sundae from that darling little ice cream parlor we saw this afternoon."


	30. Chapter 30

**Part 7.1 – First Phone Call**

The pale pre-dawn morning light filtered through the blinds as Perry opened his eyes and slowly stretched his long frame carefully so as not to disturb Della. She was curled on her left side, facing him, one hand possessively clutching his arm. He smiled and trailed a finger across her collar bone. He had been worried about their strenuous activities the night before having a detrimental effect on Della's recovery, but his concern was quickly put to rest by the lovely woman sleeping peacefully beside him. She hadn't coughed at all, and her breathing seemed to be affected only by her desire for him, which had turned out to be prodigious. Truth be told, he couldn't get enough of her, either, and if it hadn't been for the car horn sounding outside at nearly eleven o'clock, Alice and Mae would surely have caught them _in flagrante_ _delicto _and his hard-won truce with Alice would have collapsed. As it was, he barely had time to snatch his clothes from the floor and high-tail it down the stairs to the den, where he hastily donned his boxers and t-shirt, and made his way to the front room wrapped in a blanket to greet the two women, pretending he had been asleep downstairs. He got the impression Alice was suspicious of his sleepy greeting and he _**knew **_ Mae didn't believe for one minute he had been in the den all night, but he had to make a good show of it on principle.

He bade them good night and disappeared into the den, lying tensely awake on the leather couch listening for them to settle down so he could sneak back up and say a proper good night to Della. At twelve-fifteen he finally decided they were probably asleep and tip-toed back up the stairs, slid back under the covers with Della, and pulled her into his arms, intending to spend only a few moments on a thorough good-night kiss. But she was so soft and warm, and her sighs of contentment only spurred his lips to rove over her hungrily, and before he knew it she was atop him, those impossibly long slender legs straddling his hips, the rhythmic movements of her body bringing him more pleasure than he had a right to experience. She was silent and smiling as she watched him struggle to maintain his own silence and when she had led him to the brink, when he thought he might give a mighty Tarzan yell that would bring Mae and Alice stampeding into the room, she leaned forward and kissed him. He raked his hands through her hair and held her face to his as she nudged him over the edge, gasps and sighs and cries held to urgent whispers of simultaneous, glorious release.

Afterwards, he couldn't bring himself to leave her alone in their bed and go downstairs to the den. He had spent too many sleepless nights on the couch out of respect for Della's mother, longing to be holding Della in his arms, and now that he was finally doing just that, he wasn't about to let her go. Part of the tenseness between them was Della's dissatisfaction with his physical distance, having wrongfully convinced herself he was angry with her or repulsed by her. He should have asserted himself more in her care since Alice arrived, but for the sake of congeniality had chosen to remain in the background, often deferring to her will, which left Della frustrated and annoyed.

No, he wasn't going to leave her alone, not after her spectacularly successful seduction. So he had stayed, setting his mental alarm clock for some time between four and five so he could sneak downstairs ahead of Alice and Mae, and they would find him uncomfortably dozing on the couch in the den. Or maybe he would listen for them moving around and put the coffee on to perk. That might even get Della downstairs before them and they could cuddle under the blanket on the couch. Surely Alice couldn't object to that, especially if he dressed first.

Della stirred beside him, murmuring something unintelligible and he caressed her face tenderly. "Shhh, baby. It's very early in the morning. Go back to sleep. I have to leave now so your mother and Mae don't have a fit."

Della's hand tightened its hold on his arm. "Noooo," she sighed. "Stay…love you."

"Baby, you have to let go of my arm. We can't –" he broke off when the phone rang. Damn! Who the hell would be calling at this hour of the morning? Della lifted her head and blinked sleepily as he put on his shorts and t-shirt and hit the floor running.

Slightly breathless from the run downstairs to the den where the one telephone had been installed, Perry grabbed the phone on the eighth ring. "Mason," he barked. "This better be damn good to call before five o'clock in the morning."

"Perry? Thank God you're there." Paul Drake's voice, thin and weary, came over the wire.

"Paul…what's wrong?" The hair at the back of Perry's neck stood at attention. Paul wouldn't call unless it was just short of a life and death emergency.

"I'm sorry to call you so early in the morning, but I didn't know what else to do. There's been a development in an old case. I hate like hell to ask this, but could you come back to L.A.?"

Perry rubbed a hand over his face. 'There's been a development in an old case' was code for a very serious situation indeed. He didn't want to leave Della, not now, not after the tension between them had been relieved to a degree, but by invoking the development code, Paul had let him know immediately circumstances were dire. "Let's have it, Paul. What's the problem?"

"The first problem is that I've been arrested. This is my one phone call. I'd rather not go into details over the phone exactly why I was arrested because there are entirely too many cops hanging around, including Tragg."

"Tragg?" Perry's antennae went up. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into, man?"

"Just…can you come back to L.A. and get me out of here? I didn't want to call you last night when they arrested me because of Della –"

"Good grief, Paul, you spent the night in jail?" Perry interrupted, wanting to feel guilty but only mustering a bit of annoyance. He sighed resignedly. "Don't worry. I'll be there as soon as I can, buddy. Sit tight." He hung up the phone and made his way slowly upstairs. With an eye to the doors of the spare rooms, he quietly opened the door to his and Della's room, expecting her to be asleep. Instead, he was greeted by her questioning stare and quiet voice.

"Who was that on the phone?"

Perry sat down on the bed and pulled her into his arms. She melted into him with a sleepy yawn. "Why are you up? I told you to go back to sleep."

"How could I sleep with the phone ringing at four-forty-five in the blessed a.m.? I'll ask again: who was it?"

"It was Paul. Apparently there's been a development in an old case."

"Oh," she said in dismay at the code. "Is it terribly serious?"

"I don't know. He didn't want to talk about it on the phone because he was calling from the Los Angeles County Jail."

"Oh!" she exclaimed in even greater dismay. "You're going back to L.A., of course."

He pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, no longer sleepy, but bright and alert in the half-light of pre-dawn. "I don't want to leave you. I'll call Alex Newman. Paul knows him and I'm sure he'd understand if I didn't get him out of jail personally. I just don't know if I can go away right now."

Della extricated herself from his arms and sat back on her haunches. "You will do no such thing," she scolded him indignantly. "This is Paul we're talking about, your best friend, the man who would go to the gas chamber for you. There is no option but to go back to L.A."

"But honey –"

"Don't 'but honey' me," she told him, firmly planting hands on her hips. "If I thought you or Mom would allow it, I'd be dressed right now and headed out the door with you. You're going to L.A. and get Paul out of jail."

"Della –"

She pushed him off the bed, then reached for his hand and kissed it. "You go take a shower, darling, and I'll set out some clothes for you. Do you want me to pack anything?"

He leaned over and placed both hands on the mattress on either side of her, his face scant inches from her face. "How can I leave you after only three days out of the hospital?"

She swayed forward a bit and gave him a lingering kiss. "You can leave because I said so, and because Paul needs you more right now."

He felt a twinge of sadness. This is what he had been passively fighting against, what had been bothering him, what had driven him to resist giving up her care entirely to Alice and Mae. He needed her to need him, and the fact that she was literally shoving him out the door made him feel worthless to her. He knew it was silly to feel that way, and he couldn't be small and selfish where her mother was concerned.

Perry took a quick shower and dressed hurriedly in the best clothes he had brought, clothes that Mae had laundered and pressed just the day before. Della had laughed at her aunt's efforts to get a 'knife-like' crease in every pair of the lawyer's trousers, claiming that dry cleaning establishments had been invented to relieve women of such drudgery, but Mae had simply shooed her from the kitchen to take a nap.

Della had climbed back into bed after laying out Perry's clothes and watched him in silence with wide eyes, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, chin resting on her knees. "I don't suppose you're going to let me walk you out to the car to say goodbye," she said.

"Absolutely not," he replied, beginning to button his shirt. "It's gotten cold and damp again and I'm not going to let you do anything that will compromise the quick recovery you're making. I'm going to tuck you into bed, kiss you gently so you'll fall back asleep and have very pleasant dreams about last night. With a little luck, I'll be back before you can even miss me."

"I miss you already," she pouted. "I've missed you for days."

He turned his back on her momentarily, eyes looking Heavenward for guidance in dealing with her at this particular moment, and wondering if this mood would last beyond her recuperation. "Darling, you are the one telling me I have to go," he reminded her patiently.

"You do have to go. But let me wallow in a bit of self-pity that you're leaving me alone with an army of mother hens."

He grinned and came to stand in front of her sitting on the bed. "I thought you considered me one of those mother hens."

She got up on her knees and draped her arms over his shoulders. "No, you've just been bossy, telling me what I can and cannot do."

"I thought we decided I _**was**_ the boss."

She tried to resist his grin but couldn't. "We decided no such thing. We might have to compromise and take turns being the boss. Or maybe you can be the boss here, and I'll remain the boss in the office."

He chuckled and kissed her on her nose. "Lie down, Miss Street."

"See? Just flat out bossy." She allowed him to help her climb beneath the covers and lay still while he tucked the quilt securely around her.

"Snug as a bug," he said with satisfaction.

"Oh God, you've spent entirely too much time with my mother."

Leaning over her, he kissed her with a lingering, soft sensuality. "Try not to give your mother and your aunt as much trouble as you give me, baby."

"You love it," she accused.

He kissed her again, longer. "If I find out you didn't behave for them I won't bring you a present," he warned.

Her eyes grew soft and misty. "I don't need a present. All I need is you," she whispered. "Go help Paul and come home as quickly as possible. Don't forget I love you."

"I never could never forget that, Della. It's what keeps me going."

He kissed her one last time, and then left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. Della strained to hear his footsteps as he descended the stairs and closed the front door behind him. She hadn't exaggerated – she had begun missing him from the moment she insisted he go rescue Paul from whatever mess he had gotten himself into. Paul was too important to both of them to ignore, but nevertheless she had a selfish wish Perry didn't have to leave her when she was still sick. She wouldn't admit it to anyone except maybe Kathy, but she did get tired in the afternoon, and she didn't want to eat when and how much everyone wanted her to. Her chest hurt, and she was shocked at her own thinness. She could still plainly see and feel her hipbones through her clothing, and those ridiculous dungarees Perry liked so much literally fell off of her.

She rolled onto her side, closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. But after only a few minutes she knew she wouldn't be able to. Her thoughts were occupied with other things: about the lovely, romantic dinner she and Perry had shared the night before, their wondrous, delirious lovemaking that had almost – almost – alleviated the tension between them, Perry's whispered words of devotion and love that had made her cry with unbelievable happiness. She rolled onto her other side, sighed, flung back the covers, and got out of bed. Her robe had fallen to the floor sometime in the night and she smiled as she picked it up, wrapped herself in it and belted it around her shrunken waist.

She made her way leisurely down the stairs to the kitchen to start the first pot of coffee for the day. They were going through several pots daily and she realized with a pang that with Perry gone the rate of consumption would decrease. Opening the cabinet next to the stove, she was about to reach for the coffee can when she felt a strong arm snake around her. Gasping in surprise, she tipped the coffee can over and it landed on the counter with a metallic clatter, the lid popping off, fragrant grounds spilling over the countertop and onto the floor. She whirled and came face-to-face with Perry, his face, shirt, trousers, and hands covered with dirt and grime.

"Perry!' she exclaimed, suppressing a cough attack. "What in blazes are you doing here? I thought you were long gone."

He smiled sheepishly. "I got half-way down the driveway before I realized one of the tires was flat. Mae must have run over a nail or something last night. I couldn't get the damn spare out of the trunk, then the lug nuts were all but seized and I had the bright idea to use as much of my weight as possible to dislodge them so I put my foot on the tire iron and…"

"And fell flat on your face." She was leaning against the counter now, coffee grounds crunching under the soles of her slippers, regarding him with barely contained mirth.

"After bouncing off the hood of the car," he admitted disgustedly. "It worked, but my pride is certainly bruised. I have to clean up and change. I hope Mae can get this dirt and grease out of my trousers."

Della began to laugh. "She loves a challenge." She coughed and turned to grip the counter for support.

Perry clasped her by her shoulders. "You should have stayed in bed," he chided softly, his hands rubbing up and down her arms while she continued to cough.

She shook her head, took a few shaky breaths, and leaned back against him, heedless of the dirt. "No, I had a chance to do something productive, so I took it. I'll have an extra long nap today, I promise. You're a mess. You need to go upstairs and get cleaned up. Can't let a little old flat tire keep Paul Drake in the clink all day."


	31. Chapter 31

**Part 7.2 – Biological Development**

Paul Drake eyed Perry Mason closely. Although the attorney had reported four days ago that all was well with Della and she was recovering nicely, the detective could see tension and worry on his friend's face, and he was more subdued than he had ever known him to be. When Perry had first called to inform him of Della's illness and hospitalization, Paul could tell he was living his worst nightmare, his normally smooth voice raw and exhausted, his sanity so brittle a stiff breeze would shatter it. But he had refused all offers of help, insisting that he was fine handling everything himself. It was obvious the past couple of weeks had affected Perry deeply, and Paul now regretted not ignoring those protests and heading straight to Carmel. He knew Perry would go through ten lifetimes and do anything and everything to ensure Della's wellbeing and happiness, but his current demeanor told a story of fear and stress only just abating.

That's why he felt guilty for calling Perry in Carmel, why he felt even worse now that the lawyer who was his best friend on this earth had come to him immediately, interrupting his time with the most important person in his life. Time he needed himself to rest and recharge from the horrific ordeal of her illness, time he should be spending making sure Della recovered as quickly as possible.

Paul leaned against the table in one of the small interview rooms reserved for attorneys and their clients and smiled ruefully at Perry, trying to maintain his composure. "I'm really glad you're here, Perry," he said humbly. "You must have broken every speed law to get here so quickly. I called you at what time – just before five a.m.? It's not even ten o'clock now. Don't take this the wrong way because I say it with sincere concern, but you look like hell."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Perry found himself smiling. "I'm glad to see you, too. As for looking like hell, you're the third person to tell me that in the past couple of weeks."

"Only three, huh?"

"Yes, only three. First Mae, then Della, and now you. By the way, let me return the compliment. Now, just what in hell is this all about? You said you didn't want to go into details over the phone."

"I'll tell you, but first, how is your favorite secretary? And tell me the truth."

"She's as gorgeous and stubborn as ever and has everyone catering to her every need. For a while there it was worse than I let on, but she's fine now, thank God. Her doctor couldn't be happier with her progress and says she'll make a complete recovery. She has to take it easy for a while, which frustrates her to no end, so we'll probably stay in Carmel another two weeks. I want her completely recovered before even considering letting her back in the office."

"That's good to hear. I'm sorry I dragged you away from her."

Perry waved the comment aside. "Della was the one who insisted that I come back to L.A. I think maybe she needed a break from me. What gives?"

The P.I. sighed heavily and looked at his friend soberly. "Tragg had me arrested and is threatening to revoke my license effective immediately."

"That's nothing new. He's been threatening to revoke your license for years. What did you do now?"

Paul hesitated. "I didn't do anything...in the present." He paused to take a deep breath. "It's the Beckers."

Perry's already pale complexion went ashen and he passed a hand over his face. "What? The Beckers? How did they – what's going on?"

"Damned if I know. Linda and I were sitting down to a nice, intimate dinner and suddenly cops were pounding on my door. Scared Linda to death. I barely had time to say something reassuring to her before they hauled me out of my apartment and down here."

"Paul, maybe it's time we –"

"No Perry, I promised. I promised the Beckers, I promised Julie and her parents…and I remember a brash young attorney whose commitment to his clients was paramount, who skirted the law and took crazy chances to make sure his clients were on the receiving end of justice, and he promised too. You went to the mat for me back then and we can't let everything go down the tubes after all these years."

Perry stared at the P.I. for several long seconds. The Beckers. Of all the things he had thought of since Paul's call, the Becker case had never occurred to him. It had been such a long time ago, his practice was brand-new, his friendship with Paul almost as brand-new.

"All right. I'll get you out of here and back to Linda. Then I'll go see Lieutenant Tragg and invite him to lunch. Maybe if I feed him he'll be agreeable and explain what the hell is going on."

"What if he starts asking questions? What will you tell him?"

"I don't know, but I'll have about thirty seconds to think of something." He slapped Paul on the back and motioned for the attending officer. "Don't worry. That's twice as much time as I usually have."

As he walked down the hall to Arthur Tragg's office, Perry wondered what it was about the Becker case that would interest a homicide specialist for something so far out of his bailiwick as to be ludicrous. Tragg was an enigma, calm and shrewd, and Perry respected the Lieutenant's tenacity, hell, he even liked the man at times. But he could be infuriating, always on his and Paul's heels as they attempted to extricate clients from their difficulties. Perry had to admit that his job wouldn't be half as challenging without such a worthy opponent as Tragg, after having dealt with the bombastic inabilities of Sergeant Holcomb for so many years. He knew Hamilton Burger certainly appreciated Tragg's thoroughness and astute deductions and the quality of the People's cases had certainly improved under the officer's tenure. But now they weren't investigating a murder and weren't in court. It was Paul who was in trouble, all because of what he had done to help his pretty, sweet teenage cousin.

_The day was one of those miserable rainy, cold California winter days, and his practice was a mere three months old. He entered his office through the private back entrance, threw his keys on the scarred second-hand desk, and cocked his head to listen for any sound of anyone else being in the office, then smiled. Miss Simmons was already there, the staccato tapping of the keys as she typed just audible through the connecting door to her office. She had very little experience as a secretary, and none at all as a legal secretary, but he had actually found that to be an advantage as they learned the ins and outs of the practice of criminal law together. She had proven to be a quick study, competent and detail-oriented. They made a good team, and he had on more than one occasion congratulated himself for seeing in her talents that she was unaware of but that he suspected she possessed._

_His hand hit the buzzer to let Miss Simmons know he had arrived and was surprised when seconds later she knocked on the door and entered without waiting for him to speak._

"_Good morning, Carol. How are you this rainy morning?"_

"_Just dandy, thank you. I have an important message for you from Mr. Drake of the Drake Detective Agency. He would like to see you in his office as soon as possible. He said it's urgent."_

_He had just begun to lower himself into his chair after lighting a cigarette, but stopped and stood at attention. "All right, I'll run on down there. Paul doesn't normally waste words like 'urgent'. I'll be back shortly."_

_Margo, Drake's va-va-voom secretary, wasn't at her desk in the reception area, so he simply walked down the corridor past a series of doors leading to cubbyholes used by an army of operatives to the slightly larger office at the end. He knocked, and received a grunt from within that might have been 'come in'._

_Paul Drake sat slumped over his desk, face buried in his large hands. He looked up when he entered. He wore a haggard, worried expression, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. _

"_Morning Paul. My secretary said you wanted to see me."_

"_Yeah, Perry, I do. Thanks for coming down. I have a problem that requires legal advice."_

_He eased his big frame into the small chair positioned in front of Drake's desk, adopted his best lawyer-like persona and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "All right. Let's have it."_

"_It's a personal problem involving my youngest cousin Julie. I've probably mentioned her – she's sixteen, pretty as the day is long, smart and talented. She wants to be a professional musician, and she's got several symphonies already interested in her. But…she's going to have a baby. She's nearly three months pregnant."_

_He expelled his breath in sympathy. Paul had spoken of Julie before a few times as the bright star in his family. This certainly was something that could derail her very promising future._

"_My aunt and uncle are beside themselves. They live in San Diego in a very nice neighborhood and everyone knows everyone else. Julie has two more years of high school and if this gets out it could ruin her future with the symphonies that are courting her. My aunt called last night on the verge of a nervous breakdown and asked me to help. I said I would try and do whatever I could. You're the first person I thought of, Perry, the only person I could think of that I trust enough with this. Julie made a mistake, a stupid, stupid mistake, but she's a good kid and deserves to fulfill her dream."_

_He studied Paul across the desk silently then placed his hands flat on Drakes' desk and pushed himself out of the spindly chair. "Of course I'll do whatever I can to help your cousin, Paul. Call your aunt and tell her we'll meet with them Saturday afternoon at their house. This isn't my specialty or even anything I know much about, but we'll figure something out for Julie. Tell your aunt and uncle to try and act as if everything is completely normal." _

_Relief flooded across Drake's weary features. "Thanks Perry. I really appreciate this. So do my aunt and uncle."_

"_No problem, Paul. Right now I'm going to go back to my office and start checking into a few things." He straightened and turned to leave, but stopped. "There is one thing you can do for me," he began._

"_Sure, you name it and I'll do it. Do you need names, addresses, phone numbers?"_

_He gave the detective a deadpan look. "No. I need you to get a bigger, more comfortable chair."_

How could what the two of them have done all those years ago cause Paul to be arrested? He also wondered if there was possibly a warrant out for his arrest as well, although he had walked into Headquarters big as life where he was quite well known and was still unaccosted. He worked his mind the last few steps toward Tragg's office to come up with something plausible to tell the Lieutenant without giving too much away.

Just as he reached out to knock, the door swung open and the tall figure of Lieutenant Arthur Tragg was framed in the doorway. "Well good morning, Counselor," he said genially, no surprise evident in his voice. "I see you made it back from wherever you were in record time. Miss Street isn't with you?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but Della is sitting this one out," Perry replied with non-committal evenness, "since Paul's incarceration is going to be of such short duration."

Tragg smiled at the pointed statement. "Why don't you come in and we'll discuss Mr. Drake's troubles," he invited. "I'm still surprised you wouldn't want notes taken in regard to the charges."

Perry threw the officer an annoyed look. "I told you, Della isn't available at the moment. I'll just have to trust that whatever you have cooked up is legitimate and well-documented."

"Oh, it's well-documented," Tragg replied, leveling his gaze at the big attorney. "You should know."

"You're making assumptions, Tragg. Why don't you tell me what's going on and we'll see if I know anything or not."

"All right, Mason, I'll do that. I've recently become aware of information regarding a family member of Mr. Drake's."

"And that information would be…?" Perry prompted impatiently.

"It concerns a baby's true parentage and subsequent clandestinely arranged adoption. That baby's birth father has come forward and wants to know about his child. The man is from an influential family and has become quite successful in his own right and he wants to meet the daughter he claims he only just learned about. He may even want custody of her since he was never informed of her existence." Tragg sat down behind his desk and chewed on the end of his cigar while eyeing Perry Mason shrewdly for any reaction to his words. He wasn't expecting any – Mason could hold a poker face with the best of them – but it was worth a try. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this illegal adoption would you?"

"You know that I do. What is it you want me to say?"

"I want all the details, Counselor. Tell me everything you know and _**do not**_ leave anything out and maybe you'll escape charges against you I've been considering all morning."

As he suspected, Perry looked back at him with an unreadable expression. "You know perfectly well I can't do that, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, yeah, lawyer-client confidentiality and all that. I just thought you might come clean if it meant going to jail."

"You know better than that. And you know I'm not going to tell you anything until I've been given a full run-down of the evidence and charges against my client, as well as myself if it comes to that."

Tragg deliberately removed the cigar from between clenched teeth and set in on the edge of an ashtray, leaned back in his chair to regard Perry Mason appraisingly. "I assume you're here to demand Mr. Drake be released," he asked rhetorically.

"I'll have a writ worked up in under an hour. Without specified charges and the willful withholding of information, I don't think I'll have any trouble finding a judge to sign it," Perry responded a touch belligerently.

"Well, I'm not going to release Mr. Drake of my own accord. Go file your writ, Mason. Let's do this by the book."

Perry's patience was stretched to its limit, any and all thoughts of lunch with the Lieutenant abandoned. As much as he wanted to get Paul out of jail, it couldn't compare to how much he wanted to keep the circumstances leading up to his arrest out of the hands of reporters. He was fully aware of the father's identity, but the adoptive parents were equally well-heeled and respected. If the press got wind of any of this mess, they would have a veritable field day pitting one influential family against the other. This situation could consume him, could result in his own arrest, and he wouldn't be able to get back to Della, who needed him too.

"Now look here, Tragg. You know damn well I can't divulge anything. You dragged Paul in here hoping to get information, hoping he would tell you whatever it is you want to know, but you have absolutely no reason to hold him on some cockamamie charge I still have not been informed of. And why the hell is a homicide cop involved in something like this anyway?"

Tragg regarded him with brooding life-weary cop eyes before making a decision. "As you well know, the father's name is Theodore Balfour. His family is very wealthy, and he has also amassed his own personal fortune with several aeronautical inventions. He hasn't told us how he found out about the baby, but when he spoke to Drake's aunt and uncle they told him to contact their nephew or you. He tried to contact Paul Drake, but he couldn't be found, and neither could you. So Balfour busted into Headquarters demanding to see someone who knew the two of you, and unfortunately, I happened to be bringing in a suspect and the desk sergeant turned him over to me."

Perry smiled briefly. "Wrong place at the wrong time, huh."

"That happens a lot when you're involved, Mason. Let me warn you, this young man is very angry and very determined to get some answers. He believes his rights to this child were egregiously ignored and was quite clear in his intent to take legal action against you and Paul Drake. He wanted to speak directly to Mr. Burger but I headed him off at the pass and did the only thing I could think of: I arrested Paul Drake under suspicion of tampering with evidence and falsifying legal documents. I could revoke his license in a heartbeat, Counselor, or I could go to Mr. Burger and just as quickly have you disbarred due to the part you played in this adoption sham. This is a case I don't believe you want publicized. I've managed to keep Balfour away from reporters so far – don't thank me because I didn't do it for you – so you'd better think of something quick or it's going to hit the fan but good."

Perry had been standing in the middle of Tragg's smallish office, hands shoved into his pockets, legs planted apart, chin thrust forward. "Lieutenant, I know who the baby's biological father is, and I will tell you that he was of legal age and informed of the impending birth. Every attempt was made to include the young man in the resolution to the situation he had gotten himself into, but it was a lost cause. His family refused to allow us access to him and went so far as to deny that the child was their son's. They were more concerned with their standing in society than their son's future with the mother or the child. The girl's parents offered to help support the baby while she finished high school and then went on to a music conservatory in preparation of accepting an offer from a symphony, but the boy's father couldn't have cared less. Our only option was to find a good home for the baby with a family that wouldn't talk about the baby's origins. I knew of a couple who couldn't have children of their own, and they were thrilled to take the baby. So we worked up the adoption papers and had the records sealed. You can believe whatever you want, but we did what we thought was best for everyone, especially that innocent baby, and we helped two families in the process. No money changed hands and even though we knew it was a touchy legal circumstance we were dealing with, we had no other choice. It was a good choice, and a choice I'd make again. The mother is a respected, successful musician and her baby is a happy, healthy and adored young lady."

"All you had to do was file proper adoption papers," Tragg reminded him, "and we wouldn't be here right now."

Perry snorted. "We filed proper papers. We also had legal documents whereby one Theodore Balfour relinquished any and all claim to the child of Julie Williams. For him to come forward now and claim no knowledge of her existence is utterly false."

"We've been trying to locate these 'properly filed' papers, Mason, and so far nothing has turned up. We have to take Balfour's claims at face value. And considering that his parents back up his story…"

"This is bullcrap, Tragg, even you must see it. You may not like my methods, but have you ever known me not to have a legal basis for what I've done? If you'll give me the number where Balfour can be reached I'll settle this to the satisfaction of everyone involved and keep the child involved safe from a custody battle she shouldn't have to endure. If you want to have Burger begin disbarment proceedings against me, go right ahead, but you'll both have egg on your faces." His voice never rose above normal conversational volume, but the tone was firm and no-nonsense. "I've had the most terrifying two weeks of my life, a nightmare I _**never **_want to experience again, which reinforced what's truly important in the world. You don't want to cross me right now Tragg, so I'd advise you to release Paul immediately and give me Ted Balfour's number."

Tragg had never seen the lawyer like this, rage controlled and internalized. Something other than the situation with Paul Drake and Julie Williams had affected him greatly, that was plain enough. Although curiosity almost ate away his professionalism, he merely stared at the furious man before him.

"All right, be an ass, Tragg. I just have one question for you and then I'm leaving. What would you have done if you were faced with the same situation? Especially if it involved someone you cared about, someone who was young and had an endlessly bright future ahead of them. And if by doing this you saved two young lives and at the same time facilitated a miracle for someone else…Tragg, if I didn't believe it before, as sure as the sun rises every morning and sets every night, after this past couple of weeks, I believe in miracles. Chew on that for a while. Good-bye, Lieutenant."

Perry pivoted on one planted foot and headed for the door, hands shaking in his pockets with barely contained rage and weariness. He needed Della to tell him everything would be fine and that he had done the right thing for Julie and the Beckers…and especially for Barbara Ann Becker. He needed to hold her and let her warm, low voice flow over him soothingly, but first he had to fix this mess.

"Mason," Tragg barked and Perry turned to face him. "I don't know what this nonsense about miracles and the past two weeks is all about, but I'm guessing it has something to do with Della since you've been so cagey in regard to her whereabouts. I want you to know I sincerely hope she's all right. And since you look like total hell, you get me that writ and I'll release Paul – but _**only **_with a writ. I'll need something concrete and substantial to drop the charges altogether, so get on your horse, Counselor. I can't keep Ted Balfour away from Burger or the press indefinitely."

Perry Mason's face softened around the edges slightly, but only someone who knew him well or had studied him at length would notice. "You'll have that writ in less than an hour. And thank you for your concern about Della. I'll be sure to tell her." He yanked open the door and strode through it with righteous confidence.

Damn that lawyer, Tragg thought. Just when he thought he had him against the ropes, he dragged the one vulnerability the men shared into the fray: Miss Della Street. He hoped for her sake that Mason could dance his way out of this fiasco. He sighed. He may as well have Paul Drake's release papers prepared for the eventuality of the writ. He had a feeling Perry Mason would be moving very quickly to resolve this mess and get back to wherever the hell it was he'd been holed up for the past two weeks with his 'miracle'.


	32. Chapter 32

**Part 7.3 – A Crying Shame**

True to his word, Tragg released Paul Drake immediately after being presented with the signed writ typed by Margo as Perry dictated. Once liberated, Paul accompanied Perry back to the Brent Building, where they spent nearly two hours searching through boxes in the storage room for documents from that time. It was Paul who finally unearthed the slightly crushed, purposely unlabeled box, and both men heaved sighs of relief. Perry immediately went to his office and made an appointment with a senior family law judge, and another appointment with a family law attorney named Suzette Norris he and Della had met at a bar association function and become friendly with.

He also called the house in Carmel, but was disappointed that Della was napping, even though he realized she must be tired from all the activity the night before. He still couldn't believe she had seduced him like that just three days out of the hospital, but once she made up her mind about something, she was not easily deterred. And Lord knew he wanted her, had missed her softness and their often heart-stopping intimacy. Her illness had frightened him like nothing ever had, and he knew that fright, along with the new knowledge of Gregg Martin and the presence of her family, caused him to treat her differently. Della didn't like it, didn't like that he wouldn't talk about it, and especially didn't like that he was hesitant to touch her, so had taken matters into her capable hands, as it were. After extracting a promise from Alice that she would tell Della he called and that he would call later, he hung up the phone and laid his head down on his desk. Facing dinner and a night alone in his apartment didn't appeal to him, but neither did going out to dinner with Paul and Linda, or any of his other friends and colleagues, not when he had so much to do and to think about.

He called the Balfour estate four times and was stalled by the housekeeper from speaking with 'Master Theodore' each time. By the fifth call 'Master Theodore' consented to speak with him only long enough to agree to a meeting at the estate the next morning. Perry hung up satisfied with the appointment and that he had an excuse to dine and retire early, in case Paul tried to talk him into going out to dinner or someone else got wind that he was back in town and insisted that he couldn't be alone. Because he certainly could be, and he preferred to be.

The next morning he rang the doorbell of the stately Balfour house and stood on the porch for six minutes until the door was finally opened. The tight-lipped, uniformed housekeeper who answered the door eyed him suspiciously as she showed him to the library and wordlessly indicated a chair in which he should sit. She then turned and exited the room still without uttering a single word. After what seemed an inordinate amount of time to keep an appointment waiting, the door opened and not young Balfour, but his father, walked into the room. It had been nearly twelve years since Perry had seen Edgar Balfour and was quick to note the completely grey hair and heavy reliance on a cane. For a man not much older than himself, the elder Mr. Balfour had not aged well. The men exchanged a perfunctory greeting, then the lawyer stated the reason for his visit.

Edgar Balfour stood rigidly in the middle of the floor, both hands grasping the cane. "I know why you're here, Mr. Mason," the older gentleman remarked snidely. "It won't do any good, however. My son's mind is made up, and he is very a very determined young man. He wants access to his child that you denied him, and nothing will stand in his way of getting what he wants."

Perry merely smiled, and spoke quietly but firmly. "Mr. Balfour, I've already conferred with a family law judge and an attorney who specializes in private adoptions, and a meeting has been set for tomorrow morning at ten o'clock in my office. If your son is so determined to see his daughter, I highly recommend that he attend. He's welcome to retain his own counsel, and I will be forthcoming with any and all documentation pertaining to the case. And Mr. Balfour, nothing will stand in _**my**_ way of guaranteeing that your son _**doesn't**_ get what he wants, but it will be handled in a peaceful, civilized manner." He reached into his suit coat and produced two summons – one for Theodore Edgar Balfour and another for Edgar Robinson Balfour. "If you do not care to proceed as I have stated, I would advise you and your son not to ignore the summons, Mr. Balfour, because it specifically deals with the disappearance of certain legal and properly filed adoption papers. Papers that Paul Drake and I had the foresight to have prepared in triplicate, papers which are now in the hands of Judge Samuel Walker, who just so happens to be the person who advised me on how to handle the situation twelve years ago. It's your choice, Mr. Balfour, a civilized meeting in my office with all the involved parties or a more formal hearing in Judge Walker's courtroom."

At that moment the door was flung open, and Ted Balfour stalked into the library. He looked first at his father, then at Perry Mason. "I have no objections to a private meeting in your office, Mr. Mason," he said with a smooth, even voice that belied the coldness in his grey eyes. "I will be there." He tossed a withering look at his father and abruptly turned on his heel, exiting the library with an undignified bang of the heavy door.

On the drive back to his office, Perry went over the short but telling meeting at the Balfour home. Nothing seemed to have changed. Edgar Balfour obviously still ruled with the clichéd iron fist, and he was undoubtedly the engine driving his son's sudden desire to see his daughter. Perry laughed to himself. Ted Balfour had no desire to see his daughter. It was Edgar Balfour who wanted to see her.

Immediately upon entering his office he called Julie Williams, who had recently retired from playing violin professionally and was now married, the mother of twins, and living in Seattle with her conductor husband. Julie was saddened by the trouble being stirred up about the daughter she freely, gladly gave to the Becker's to love and raise because at sixteen she couldn't have given her the life she deserved. She agreed to do anything she could to support what had transpired with the Beckers so that they and Barbara Ann could be spared as much hurt as possible.

He then called Marv and Judy Becker and agreed to drive to Temecula to meet with them in their home while Barbara was in school. The couple greeted him warmly and with genuine pleasure, despite the circumstances of his visit. He spent as pleasant an afternoon as possible with them, going over every angle, every possibility of what might come of the meeting the next morning. At four o'clock the back door banged and Barbara herself clattered into the house, her on-the-brink of teenager voice vibrant and cheerful as she called out to her mother that she was home and where the heck was her after school snack? Her parents introduced her to Perry, and he was instantly charmed by her pleasant and sociable manner. She would grow up to be beautiful like Julie Williams, with laughing blue eyes and enviable golden hair framing her heart-shaped face. Perry could see she was a happy, secure child that had been raised in a loving, giving home and the thought of Edgar Balfour forcing his son to turn this family's life upside down and bring them nothing but confusion, turmoil, and heartache angered him.

The Becker's had vehemently opposed any contact between Barbara and her birth father, but Perry argued gently that cooperating would not only be in their best interest, but more importantly, their daughter's. Marv and Judy finally agreed that Barbara was mature and stable enough to deal with the situation head-on and would be at the meeting with her in tow. They were still understandably jittery about exposing their daughter to her biological father, but they realized that this could be the only way to keep what transpired all those years ago under wraps.

After declining the Becker's invitation to stay for dinner, Perry drove back to L.A. and his empty apartment. He had entertained the thought of spending the night at Della's homier apartment, but decided it would just make him even lonelier for her. After taking off his suit coat, loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes, he poured a rather large amount of bourbon in a tumbler, added two ice cubes, and settled into the leather easy chair next to the phone table. Alice picked up the phone at the house in Carmel on the second ring and hollered loudly for Della to come to the phone. He smiled to himself. Had to love those Street women.

"Hello, darling." Her voice came over the wire, music to his ears, slightly congested but still shiveringly throaty and familiar. "How goes the fight today?" Last night he had filled her in on the high points of the case, told her about Tragg's concern for her, about how Ted Balfour was suddenly concerned about exercising his parental rights.

"I wish you were here," he said quietly. "I need you. I tried to meet with Ted Balfour today and wound up getting an earful from his father. I think it's the old man who wants contact with the baby. Only she's not a baby. She's a lovely, happy young lady now."

"I wish I was there, too, honey," she replied sympathetically. She knew he needed her, especially at times like this when the situation meandered outside his ken. He would want to pace, using her as a sounding board, or to simply sit with her in his arms as his sharp mind silently mulled over jumbled facts.

"What did you do today? Did you eat all your lunch and take your nap?"

She laughed, and it sounded so much better than just a day ago. "Are you kidding? I've been a meek and obedient patient. Aunt Mae heard us."

"What?" He felt his face flush, even though he was completely alone.

"Mom and Aunt Mae came home while we were…ah, during…well, let's just say Aunt Mae is holding our little romp over my head to keep me quiet while Mom plays the role of the hovering nurse. I'm suffocating, Mae is busting with laughter, and Mom is in her glory. She tried to wash my hair today in the bathtub. I can't stand it."

"I wash your hair all the time in the tub," he pointed out, purposely obtuse. "You seem to enjoy it."

"For an intelligent man, Perry Mason, you are exceptionally dense. My mother hasn't washed my hair since I was eight. You can't even imagine how embarrassed I was."

Perry laughed. "You don't really think she would have let _**me**_ wash your hair."

"You are still missing the point. I don't need anyone to wash my hair. I'm a grown woman. I can drive. I have a key to my apartment. I let you wash my hair for grown up, purely hedonistic reasons."

He was grinning into the phone now. "Do you think Mae will rat us out to your mother?"

Della sighed. "She's having entirely too much fun torturing me with what she heard and watching me squirm while Mom treats me like a baby. Beware of her when you come back."

"I'm duly forewarned. If Mae heard us, why didn't your mother?"

"Because Aunt Mae insisted they go back into town for the ice cream sundae she absolutely had to have."

"Remind me to bring Mae a present," he said solemnly. "What kind of ice cream does she like?"

"Don't reward her for what she's doing! She'll hold this over our heads the rest of our lives."

"Would you rather endure having your mother oblivious and happily trying to wash your hair or to give you silent, reproving looks every waking moment?"

"Neither option thrills me. Please come home tomorrow."

"I'll do my darndest, baby" he promised. "I hope Ted Balfour will see Barbara Becker and realize what his father is telling him to do isn't in her best interest."

"If anyone can convince him, it's you, darling. How is Paul?"

"Concerned but confident. Finding our copies of the documents went a long way toward setting his mind at ease. Tragg has tabled the threat of revoking his license for the time being, and I think by tomorrow afternoon I'll have that completely quashed, as well as any disbarment proceedings Hamilton Burger may be contemplating."

"All of this because you did a good thing for Paul's cousin," she commented sadly.

She would never know how much he appreciated her, how much her belief in him kept him afloat when all he wanted to do was sink. There were no words that properly conveyed it. "I love you," he said quietly.

"I love you, too, darling. Call me as soon as you can tomorrow."

"I will. Try to keep on Mae's good side."

He slipped the receiver back onto the cradle before she could retort.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Beckers arrived twenty minutes early for the meeting, nervous and pale, their faces showing evidence of a sleepless night. Barbara was subdued, dressed in her best dress, her hair brushed within an inch of its shiny life, clutching a patent leather purse that matched kitten-heeled Mary Jane's. Perry and her parents had tried their best to prepare her for what most likely would happen, and she had taken it all in with big-eyed solemnity.

Perry, Paul Drake and the Beckers waited in his office while Gertie entertained Barbara in the law library, the connecting door to Della's office left open, as well as the door from Della's office to the reception area so they could hear when Ted Balfour arrived. Perry heard the outer door close, he jumped to his feet, cutting off Marv Becker in mid-sentence, and hurried through Della's office to the reception area. He was surprised to find Ted Balfour completely alone, a bit sullen, and demanding to see Barbara immediately. Perry ushered him into his private office, crossed to the law library door and motioned for Gertie to bring Barbara out.

After a few moments of middling pleasantries, the girl, serious and unassuming, regarded the man who was her biological father with frank curiosity. Ted Balfour was clearly taken aback by her, and Perry surmised he had possibly expected a younger child, or a child not so poised and well-mannered. His father would have told him any number of untruths to coerce him into pursuing his parental rights, even though he had been eighteen and of age when he'd signed away all rights to the child of Julie Williams.

Following a short, quiet conversation with Barbara, Ted turned to her parents and studied them. Gertie tactfully withdrew from the room with Barbara, who obviously wished to stay, but obediently followed the receptionist. When the door closed behind them, Theodore Balfour sat down almost weakly in the overstuffed leather client's chair.

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Becker," he said in a voice that quavered slightly. "I'm sorry to have put you through this. I should have called Mr. Mason last night and cancelled, but after everything my father said, I felt I needed to see my…your daughter just once." He looked up at Perry Mason. "I suspect you figured out it was my father who engineered this travesty. He bribed a records clerk to steal the sealed adoption papers and had several bogus documents produced that would substantiate a story that I never gave up my rights to my daughter. He's a difficult man, my father. I'm his only son and my only child is Barbara. I will never have more children, and my father desperately wants an heir, any heir. You see, I'm terminally ill, and my father will have no heir. He sees that as a great failure in my life and insisted that by taking Barbara from you I would honor him and my life wouldn't have been wasted." He tried to smile, but it emerged as more of a grimace.

"Mr. Balfour…" Mrs. Becker began, but Theodore Balfour waved away whatever words of sympathy she might utter.

"Don't say you're sorry, Mrs. Becker. It's a sad fact of life that some people don't live to an old age, and although I have a fortune at my disposal, there is no treatment that will save me. I want to leave that fortune to research, but my father is dead set against it." He managed a smile at his own choice of words. "He wants the money to stay in the family, the great Balfour family. The only problem is, the great Balfour family has dwindled to just me and my father through a series of marriages that thinned the bloodline and resulted in a succession of weak and unhealthy children. My father has lived longer than his brothers and cousins, and at my relatively young age I've already outlived the few cousins I had. Barbara was my father's last hope."

He stood and faced the Beckers. "I'm going to tell my father it is my dying wish that he stay as far away from you and your daughter as possible. I will leave my money to research as I planned, and if he truly wants the Balfour name to mean anything, he'll do the same. I'm sorry if this has caused you or Barbara emotional pain or anxiety, but…"

"But in light of the facts," Marv Becker continued for him, "you did what you had to do."

Theodore Balfour nodded. "She's a lovely girl. It's obvious she's happy and loved and I couldn't be more pleased that Mr. Mason and Mr. Drake chose you to raise my child. It is my greatest accomplishment in life to have loved Julie Williams and been able to give you what you so dearly wanted." With that, Theodore Balfour bowed slightly and walked from the office, his back straight, his gait steady.

After the outer closed behind him, Judy Becker burst into tears.

Perry Mason very nearly did the same thing.


	33. Chapter 33

**Part 7.4 – A Miracle Awaits**

Perry drove as fast as he dared toward Carmel and the house where Della, his very own miracle, awaited. He had spoken to her a little over four hours ago, after everyone had left his office, but didn't have much opportunity to tell her about what had happened because Della had news: her sister-in-law Rachel had given birth prematurely to a baby boy, Alice's first male grandchild, and the taxi taking her to the airport had just pulled away from the house. Mae was there, as was a doting Martin, who announced he wouldn't leave until Perry arrived in case Mae should require help caring for Della. Perry could almost hear Della roll her eyes as she reported that bit of the story. Martin had fallen instantly in love with Della once they finally met, and Perry was amused at all the time the two of them spent talking about furniture and fabrics and inexplicably, lamps.

Although he was overly anxious to return to the house and hold Della in his arms, he stopped at the Driftwood Florist shop for a dozen red and white roses, the colors of unity. He would tell her the two of them could do anything and get through anything as long as they were together, and that it didn't matter she hadn't told him about Gregg, because really, it didn't. She was entitled to hold something that tragic and traumatic to herself. He had to trust in her, had to trust in himself, had to trust in _**them**_.

He turned onto East Carmelo Avenue and drove down the winding road. At the 'magic spot', where the house presented itself, a huge grin spread across his face. Della was standing at the rail of the second story porch, waving. He guided the car through the opening in the stone wall and brought it to a lurching stop at the base of the front steps. Grabbing the roses and his briefcase from the seat next to him, he ran up the steps and with shaking hands keyed open the door. He took three steps into the house and stopped as the sight before him stole his breath.

Della was flying down the stairs, exactly like she had described the night she became so ill, barely touching the steps. She launched herself at him so that he had to drop his briefcase in order to catch her. Her kiss was effusive, ardent, and wantonly passionate. He lost himself in the kiss, having needed it and more these last three days away from her, his lips possessive, his tongue plundering. Mae's cough brought him back to the fact that there were other people in the house, and he sheepishly set Della on her feet. She continued to lean against him, as he placed a kiss on Mae's cheek and quickly shook Martin's hand before heading into the den to deposit his briefcase. Della remained so close to him she nearly tripped him, clutching the roses to her chest.

Away from her aunt and Martin in the den, Della set the flowers on the desk and again pulled his head down to hers, leaving no doubt about her pleasure at seeing him. The palpable tension between them even after her deliberate seduction had given away to an almost frantic need to hold him and be held by him. Her lips clung to his for several long moments, and then she broke away.

"Welcome home," she said softly.

Perry smiled and brushed his fingers across her cheek. "Maybe I should go out and come back in. I think someone missed me."

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I have a very good idea, precious girl." He pulled her down on the big, soft leather couch and cuddled her to his side. "I don't do well without you, Della. I needed you so much during that ordeal."

She rubbed her hand over his chest. "I know, darling. Feel like talking now?"

Della lay in his arms on the couch and let him talk it all out, let him tell her every heart-wrenching detail of the short meeting between Ted Balfour and Barbara Ann Becker, his deep voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. She knew he had been confident in his ability to convince Edgar and Theodore Balfour that exposing the adoption and removing Barbara Becker from her home, even if only for visitation would not be the best thing for her, but never had he suspected what lay at the base of the sudden interest in the child. He had uncovered an elaborate trail of bribery and forged documents, which were now in the possession of Hamilton Burger with a full recounting of the meeting between Ted Balfour and Barbara Becker, as well as her parents. He apologized for not returning to Carmel immediately after the meeting concluded, but he needed time to tie up loose ends with Tragg and Burger, as well as with Jackson and Gertie, time to have the summons vacated and the adoption records to be re-sealed and stored in a safer place than the Brent Building's storage room, time to immerse himself in tasks that would take his mind off of Ted Balfour.

"We're the same age," she said quietly, sadly. "Is he married?"

Perry smoothed errant curls from her forehead. "No. He spent all his time working on his inventions. He's really quite brilliant and driven. He made his money in aeronautics but has recently shifted his attention to the medical field. It's a crying shame that the world will be robbed of his genius."

"How is Paul? Did he make friends in jail?"

Perry grinned. "I don't know if he made any friends among his fellow inmates, but believe me he didn't endear himself to any of the guards or officers."

"We should invite him and Linda to spend next weekend if we're still here."

"We'll still be here," he affirmed. "Two more weeks, then we'll go home and you'll work half days for a week and see how you feel…"

"Perry, you can't ignore your practice for that long," she protested. "There are a lot of important matters you need to attend to."

"And I will attend to them when I'm satisfied that the most important matter is fully recovered."

"You drive me nuts, you know," she said petulantly.

Perry burst out laughing, pulled her to him and kissed her with unbridled enthusiasm. "I love you, too, darling."

"Go ahead and laugh, Mr. Mason. You have no idea what it's like to have your every move watched, your every cough critiqued for how much phlegm it brings up, your every bite of food cheered like the home team's fourth quarter touchdown." She tried to sit up, but he held her against his chest tightly.

"Precious girl, we do all of that because we want to you to get well," he admonished gently. "You lost a lot of weight and your lungs aren't completely clear yet. Kathy said it would be two or three months before you felt like your old self again."

She sighed hugely. "I'm not an invalid. I'd like to do a few things by myself."

"You can wash your hair by yourself now that your mother is gone," he teased.

"Actually, I was hoping you might…why are you giving me that look? I think I proved how well I feel the night before you left."

He hugged her. "About that night," he began.

Della suddenly pushed herself from his embrace and moved to the side of the desk, picked up the bouquet of roses and inhaled their scent with closed eyes. "They're beautiful. Thank you," she said, her back to him.

He felt her withdrawal, knew that he was treading on ground she had hoped not to cover again, but couldn't stop himself. "The florist said red and white roses symbolize unity. I like that."

"So do I," she replied softly. "Except that I don't feel very unified at the moment. Everyone has an opinion about what I should do and how I should feel and…and you – and you keep taking their side."

Perry quickly got to his feet and slid his arms around her from behind, drawing her back against him. "There are no sides in this, my darling. We all want the same thing: for you to be happy and healthy."

"I know that," she almost wailed, perilously close to tears. "Do you have any idea how overwhelmed I've been? How it felt to wake up in the hospital and see not only my mother, but my brothers as well? And Aunt Mae…and Kathy, and even Martin – they all treat me like a little girl, cautioning me about not overdoing it, chastising me if I don't finish the huge portion of food they think I should be eating, or lecturing me about you." She turned in his arms and buried her face in his shirtfront, hands gripping the lapels of his suit coat. "And _**you**_, the one I needed to be there for me, you've been the worst of all."

Perry was stunned. "I've been the worst of all? Della, baby…"

"Don't call me baby! That's what I'm talking about. I'm a grown woman and I love you and I need you like a grown woman needs a man and you…you – you don't want me!"

If he thought he was stunned before, it didn't compare to what he felt at her outburst. "My God, Della, what are you talking about? Of course I want you. I want you so much I let you seduce me the other night when you should have been rest –"

"_**You let me seduce you**_?" She exclaimed incredulously, twisting in his arms to face him. "We've been together too long for what I did to be called a seduction. I wanted you and I asked for you. I know it's been hard on you to have my family around, and out of respect for them you kept your distance, but it was getting ridiculous just how distant you were." She looked up at him with angry misery.

"Your mother requested that I…that we not, uh…honey, I've been frustrated too. Your mother and aunt took over running the house and taking care of you and I felt left out. I've never felt so ineffectual in my life."

All of Della's anger drained from her body as she realized exactly what it was that had caused the awkwardness and distance between them. "On my darling man," she whispered. "You experienced a family – what a family does when things go wrong. My family has had more than its share of things gone wrong so we band together because that old adage about strength in numbers is completely true. I spent an hour arguing with my mother and Aunt Mae about going home to help with Rachel and the baby, but I knew it was futile. I knew from the moment Mom hung up the phone that she would go home and Aunt Mae would stay with me until Kathy says I can go back to work, and then she'll fly to Michigan to add another member to the team."

"But you've complained the entire time about your mother and brothers and Mae…"

Della smiled and slid her arms around his waist. "Of course I did. That's what children do when their parents treat them like children. I didn't really mean any of it. I've loved every blessed minute – except for the whole pneumonia thing."

Perry shook his head. "I'm fairly intelligent, but all of this is beyond my comprehension."

She snuggled against him. "Darling, it all boils down to the fact that by being with me you have become a child. Mom and Aunt Mae have been treating you exactly like they would treat me or Jamie or Robbie. Jeez-o-Pete, Kathy is a doctor and they spoke to her sometimes like she was seven."

He hugged her hard. "Promise me you'll never stop saying 'Jeez-o-Pete'," he requested.

"And promise me you'll let Mom mother you. She really wants to."

"She's hardly old enough to be my mother."

"Doesn't matter. She'll appreciate your gallantry, but she'll still treat you like her son."

He was thoughtful for several long seconds. "I sort of like that idea," he said quietly. "We did agree at one time that I was family."

Della beamed at him, inordinately pleased to hear that.

"Do you want to ask Kathy if you can go to Michigan?"

Della shook her head. "I already called her and she said no. Maybe I can go in a couple of weeks if I gain enough weight and don't need an afternoon nap any longer. The baby was transported to Grand Rapids and Kathy has spoken to the chief neonatal physician there. He's doing well and all I can do right now is tell everyone I love them."

"What's his name?"

She cast her eyes downward. "James Greggory."

Perry cupped her chin with his hand and tilted her face up to his. "And you'll tell your nephew all about Gregg when he's old enough to understand." He kissed her.

Della felt tears pool in her eyes. "I don't deserve you," she said.

He pulled her back against him. "Yes you do."

She chuckled. "I have something to show you." She took his hand and led him from the den, through the dining room and up the stairs, pausing at the landing to catch her breath. "Martin added a new piece of furniture to the green room after Mom left and we moved Aunt Mae into the yellow room."

Perry followed her up the remaining steps, fingers still entwined with hers. She smiled at him mysteriously as she pulled him into the doorway of the smallest bedroom.

His heart nearly stopped beating.

There was a crib in the room, the gleaming maple wood a perfect match to the furniture Martin had selected for this bright room.

Perry gulped, unsure of what to say, shocked by the assumption Martin had made about him and Della and their relationship. "Del – Della, I'll have Martin take this thing apart and get it out of the house –"

Della placed two fingers over his lips, her eyes sparkling, her smile now a bit tremulous. "No. I like it."

His stomach flip-flopped and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. Did he dare to ask? Now, while they were standing in the doorway of this room, this perfect little nursery?

"A crib will come in handy," she continued in that low voice he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life. "We'll need it for when Jamie and Rachel come to visit, and Robbie and Helen want at least two more kids. Then there's Suzette and Gene Norris and their brood. We'll have to invite them to spend a couple weekends this summer. And…" she trailed off into silence.

"And what?" He prompted, knowing his world would turn on her answer.

She shrugged and leaned against him. "And who knows," she finished softly.


End file.
